A Rebel and Anomaly
by Taka Momos
Summary: Heero serves as the bodyguard of Relena, head of the Unified Nations. When rebels long dismissed as a group of protesters attack with the intent of taking down the government, Heero finds himself struggling to discover what he truly feels 1x2 3x4 yaoi
1. Chapter 1

This is set in an AU. It's our world, but I kept the Unified Nations in tact. Not as AU as it could be, but not within the Gundam universe either. If you guys comment and fave and stuff, I'll update it really soon. So... enjoy!

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**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

A smoky steam rose from the wintry streets below as Heero looked out the window of the high-rise building, the urban headquarters that his "employer" preferred to do her business in. Relena Dorlian was in actuality his romantic interest, but few suggested that the respected and powerful woman would have feelings for her own bodygaurd.

Even though he was her personal bodyguard because of her feelings...

Not to say he didn't take his job seriously; he took it _very_ seriously. And he made sure to keep his feelings in check while on duty. He never questioned, however, the feelings he had for her. Despite few memories of actually _feeling_ them (or feeling much of any emotion in his lifetime for that matter), he never pressed the issue in interest of keeping Relena happy while at the same time keeping an emotional distance to keep her adequately protected. Being the leader of the Unified Nations, Relena deserved the best protection that he could give her.

With that in mind (as it always was), he looked down with contempt at the protesters that had appeared across the street from the entrance of the headquarters building. Protesters, especially as of late, had proven to be nothing more than anti-unification terrorists that put up a front of innocent demonstration before quickly turning to violence when their puppy-dog eyes didn't get them the attention they wanted. It had only been a few months since the limousine he and Relena rode in on their way to a meeting was almost blown up by a crude form of grenade that was tossed underneath the vehicle without warning.

That was an accurate description of their methods – crude. Crude and unprovoked. They were terrorists, a violent guerrilla faction with political motives behind their underhanded acts of aggression; the only _true_ purpose their actions had was to inject chaos into the peaceful world that Relena had fought hard to create. He had little sympathy for them.

"Good morning, Heero. How are you today?" Heero turned to see Relena enter the office, her concentration buried in the notes of a recent meeting. He gave a last, short glance at the protesters just beginning to spout their usual "pity-us-or-else" messages. "No current dangers present, ma'am. It looks to be safe for the given time." Relena laughed at his almost robotic response.

"Not 'How are things?', how are _you_?" Heero's only response was a blank "I just told you" stare. Relena, used to the emotionless look, busied herself on her computer, typing up some kind of document. The erratic ticking of the keyboard keys slowly faded as his attention once again returned to the protesters, who seemed to have grown slightly and settled into their position. A few streetgoers interacted with the group, dressed in their usual worn and dirtied clothing, although almost all of the interactions were of disgust, a few being openly hostile as they were pushed and shoved out of the way of busy businessmen.

"Heero, we have a staff meeting in an hour, and then a meeting over at the Assembly Hall. Will you have the transportation ready in time?" Heero gave a curt nod, before stating in his usual monotone voice, "Of course, ma'am. I'll do that while attending to some other business." Relena gave a distracted "thank you" that Heero didn't hear, already thinking of the task at hand – calling Chang to help rid of the protesters. He walked briskly past the secretary, who was seemingly busy listening to messages from the night before, and instructed her in passing to "ready a limousine for Ms. Dorlian". Walking out of the office, he turned and walked across the floor's lobby into a blank and mostly-empty hallway, finally turning to enter a heavy, black metal door that led into the building's security center. He picked up the phone and quickly punched in numbers, completely oblivious to the people working around him at various stations that monitored all rooms, hallways, elevators, and stairwells in the entire building. The other end of the line picked up with a click.

"Yes?" Heero instantly recognized the voice of his friend, Wufei Chang – a highly respected officer who personally led, by volunteering for the job, the team that kept peace and order within the city. He considered order to be a refuge in which all the people of the world would live peacefully and "honorably".

"Chang? Yuy. We have some more _troublemakers_ that I need dealt with before we leave for a meeting." Even the venomous tone he used to emphasize the word didn't help the taste that was left in his mouth. Heero found it difficult to refer to the rebels in a way that didn't step over the line into profanity, which he would not stoop so low as to insult his own intelligence by using.

"Fine, expect an ETA of about ten minutes. How many do you estimate?"

"Thirty and growing."

"Handle it our usual way?"

"Of course. Yuy out." Heero headed out of the dark room, lit only by the glow of variously-sized screens and monitors, towards the elevator. He punched the G button and straightened various articles of his black suit, a ritualistic preparation for the adrenaline that came with throwing scum into the trash can where they belonged – a jail cell, where they could rot away out of the sight of the law-abiding public.

---

Dressed to fit in with the surrounding public, he adjusted the collar of the coat to cover the wide grin he couldn't help let plaster itself on his face – the sight of a suit, clearly security, walking out of the building straight for what he knew would end up being a confrontation always gave him a whirl of excitement. The rough, over-sized trench coat and formal hat (the hell if he knew what it was called) gave him an odd, but not-too-noticeable, look. He shoved his hands in his pocket, feeling at the explosive he would throw. He also fingered the weapons on his person through the silky fabric, a habit he'd developed to help calm himself.

It would be a good day.

He glanced across the street to an accomplice, who gave a discreet nod, before turning to the other undercover member who gave a similar signal of readiness.

And, like a watchmaker enjoying a newly made watch turning its gears for the first time, he leaned back and watched as the suit reached the group of demonstrators, the plan unfolding almost by itself.

Yes... a very good day...

---

Heero looked at the protesters with an air of contempt, sickened by the complete lack of respect they had for those around them. Their clothes, as usual, were dirty. He was still feet away and he could already detect a certain scent about them, probably from the slums. He didn't fail to notice the way their chattering faded and eyes dimmed when they noticed him. Almost as if the reason they were there had drained out of them.

He loved that feeling.

"I'm here to instruct you to leave. The authorities are already en route. You have no right to be here, and I'll ask you politely _once_ to leave immediately." What little light was left in their eyes dimmed, except for one loud-mouth who chose to raise his voice in disagreement.

"We have every right to be here!"

"You have no permit, meaning quite the contrary."

"Ya think we didn't try gettin' one!? How're we s'pposed to get a protesting permit when the pigs don't want us here!?"

"I believe that's the point of denying you one. They don't want you here, deciding that the legality of protesting outside a government building to be questionable. You should have taken their denial as a suggestion to protest elsewhere, not to protest anyways." Heero couldn't help but smirking evilly, yet at the same time beginning to feel annoyed by the stupidity of the man.

"Just 'cause you government big shots don't want us here doesn't mean we don't have the right to be!"

"I believe we've just established that you, in fact, do _not_ have the rights that you claim." The wail of a siren was faint in the distance, but Heero knew it would be little under a minute before an entire squad of riot police would arrive to usher the protesters away from the area.

The protesters began grumbling, making a half-hearted attempt to dig themselves in before the soldiers arrived. As Heero had anticipated, it was not long at all before a large vehicle with flashing lights pulled up behind him, the siren turned off so as not to disturb the workers in the buildings nearby. Black and blue clad soldiers filed out of the vehicle, guns in hand, ready to take aim when the order was given. As they formed a line behind Heero, a Chinese man in a hybrid uniform, crossed between the armor of a soldier and tight-fitting, informal clothing, a POLICE badge hanging from his neck, walked up beside him.

"Are these the demonstrators?" Heero gave a quick nod, his eyes never once leaving the now awe-stricken creatures before him, whose resolve had quickly shrunken to that of a small rodent trapped in a corner.

As Chang began his usual reading of rights, almost as if they had any, Heero couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked around, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. The feeling, however, remained. Passer-bys had stopped to watch the incident, cars slowed to see what was happening, it was all as it was the many times before. By the time he noticed the man dressed in an ill-fitting trench coat leaning against a wall by an alley, suspicious even barring the fact that he hadn't moved the entire time, never once looked up to watch the exchange (unlike everyone else around him), or even the heavy boots that clearly stuck out once he'd taken a more attentive look, it was already too late.

The sound of metal bouncing off asphalt was all he heard before the massive explosion.

The officers behind him were hurdled forward, the vehicle they'd been in just moments before now ten feet in the air, a fiery wreckage that was quickly descending back down to the street it had once been parked on. The carcass let off flaming pieces of debris when it landed. It was only then that Heero noticed he and Chang were on the ground, his friend yelling loudly into his radio -

"We need back-up at the UN HQ, NOW! We're under attack! Officers are down! GET BACK-UP NOW!" He turned his head, still numb from the explosion, just in time to see the man he'd been watching quickly approaching, a grenade already in his hand. He couldn't hear himself yell out to Chang that there was another bomb, and he was barely aware that he was pulling his gun and taking aim at the man. The grenade, however, was no longer in his hand.

A second explosion tore through the line of soldiers that was rebuilding itself and preparing for a confrontation, throwing most of them like ragdolls into the air. A heat quickly rushed across his body, and he realized the second grenade had been distinctively unlike the first – wherein the first had the power to take out an armored vehicle, the second had a more liquid quality to it. It was then that he finally noticed what was going on around him.

A soldier fell lifeless beside him, his clothes and skin burning from the fire he was consumed by. The second grenade was a firebomb.

His entire body now numb, his consciousness becoming more like a surreal painting, he tried to stand and find the man he'd seen. All he saw, however, was smoke blowing over an empty street. The man was gone.

Sirens quickly approached. The screaming around him suddenly pierced through his daze, and his adrenaline was quick to kick in. He saw Chang shooting at a man running away. The man grabbed his arm and fell. Chang began to rush to the body, but stopped when one of his injured men called to him. It was lucky for him he was distracted.

A third explosion launched the body of the attacker high into the air. Heero covered his ears and ducked, turning back when he'd fully recovered. He saw Chang staring wide-eyed at the spot where the body had once been, his face drained of all color. He ran to his friend when he fell backwards, shell-shocked at what could very easily have been, and almost was, his death. The sirens descended on them, ambulances and police cars packing the street. He helped to usher his friend to one of the paramedics scrambling out of an ambulance, himself still dazed by the events that had just unfolded.

While his friend was being attended to, he took time to look around. Uniformed men swarmed the streets, quick to secure the area before any further attacks could be made. He was surprised to notice the protesters he'd been talking to cowering behind their signs, some of them bloodied from the attack. He was quick to realize –

_Rebels didn't attack themselves._

He turned his head when a familiar voice broke through the chaos; Relena was fighting the officers trying to keep her in the building, telling her to that her safety couldn't be jeopardized. He was quick to walk over to her.

"Go back inside, Relena. You might get hurt." His voice was as cold and emotionless as usual, unlike her frantic yelling. "Heero, you're hurt!"

He looked at his arm, unaware that he'd been injured. His dress shirt, usually white, was red from his blood, exposed by a tear in his black suit. He'd waved it off and repeated his command, telling her to get inside where it was safe. He walked calmly away, almost relieved to be done with her dramatic yelling. There were more important things to be done.

There had to be. Otherwise, he'd have to think about why he was relieved to be rid of Relena...

---

He let himself lean against the door of the taxi, doing his best not to let the blood running down his arm get on the seat. He grunted an incomprehensible command to stop, and, the driver getting the message, grit his teeth as he was slammed into the door by the sudden turn. He reached in his pocket and threw what seemed like the right amount of fare, not really caring if it was. He staggered down the sidewalk, a haziness drifting through his head, until he noticed a familiar door lit by the orange glow of the streetlight.

He gave the door a heavy kick with his boot, not feeling like going through the usual niceties of knocking. The familiar blond opened the door, quick to wrap his arms around his neck.

"You're alright! We were so worried! He got back a few hours ago, what took you!? ..." The blond rambled frantically in his worry, before stopping suddenly. He glared out the corner of his eyes, bracing for what would come next –

"You're hurt!" The cry was shrill, leaving an unpleasant ring in his ears. He was quickly pulled inside, his now bloody coat done away with.

"Trowa, get out here! Duo's hurt!"

Quick footsteps against the wooden floor was the last he heard before his vision finally left him, blackness overtaking him.


	2. Chapter 2

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Yeah, yeah, yeah. This chapter has taken forever. Took me a while to hoard up moments of initiative to write it. Anyways, enough whining and excuses. Feedback or the loose comment is appreciated.

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**A Rebel and Anomaly**  
_Taka Momos_

A roar of murmurs and whispered conversations filled the room, papers rustling as reporters from various news organizations verified facts in preparation for the questions they would ask. The hiss of hushes brought on an overwhelming, almost eerie, silence as the speaker took his place at the podium. From the top of the tiered auditorium, watching over the events unfolding, Heero leaned firmly back against the wall and crossed his arms, focusing intently on Secretary of Defense Treize Khushrenada as he began to speak –

"_I'd like to thank all of the media in attendance for their patience, and the people of the Unified Nations for their calm, collected response to what is a frightening, confusing series of events. I can guarantee you that we are putting forth all available resources towards investigating this incident. At approximately 9:13 yesterday morning, there was a terrorist attack on the government headquarters of the Unified Nations. No government officials were harmed, there were no civilian casualties; all casualties were military personnel. Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft is unharmed._

_We have little information of the attackers, and are still sorting information regarding the attack itself. However, we do know these facts. There appeared to have been three attackers, each wielding an explosive device. The first device seems to have been a standard, although highly explosive, hand grenade. The second, according to eye-witness reports, seems to have been a much more crude, yet highly strategic, modified grenade designed for anti-personnel purposes. The third attacker was stopped before the third device could be detonated on U.N. Forces. We are still investigating the attack, hoping to find more information that may lead us to the attackers._

_We know very little of the attackers – we only know that they are to be considered heavily armed and highly dangerous. It is unknown at this time whether this was a single act of terrorism, or the beginning of a more elaborate plot. We urge all citizens to take caution until more information is known. I will now take questions at this time."_

Heero pushed off of the wall and began to walk out of the room, not interested in what the reporters had to ask. He knew that Treize had said all he would say; any questions asked would either be dodged or answered with information already given. Not that they had much more than what he had mentioned.

It took little more than five minutes for the reporters to realize that little information would be extracted from Khushrenada, infamous for his ability to say absolutely nothing in a long-winded response – something that irritated reporters to no end. Treize stepped down from the podium, heading off-stage towards a small conference room across the hall. Heero made his well to the room as well. The conference room would serve as a temporary command center for the task force that would be assigned the investigation of the attack. Heero had already volunteered, citing a quick capture of the terrorists being the best way to protect Relena (although Heero considered it the best way to protect her without being anywhere near her). Chang was quickly at his side when he entered the room. The two would lead the investigation in tandem – Chang's reason for volunteering being his desire to avenge the deaths of his fallen men.

Khushrenada took a seat at the head of the long, glass conference table, gracefully spreading various papers out in front of him. All he gave was a simple nod of his head, an unspoken signal for all information to be given to set the investigation underway. It was Chang's forceful, authoritative voice that was quick to blast out a response.

"At this moment, we suspect the group to be of paramilitary background. Preliminary forensics indicate the explosive devices to be crude according to U.N. Military standards, but much more advanced than any grassroots organization would be able to possess. Also, some of the tactics used indicate the group to have had military training, or to be up-to-date on urban warfare while also possessing guerilla warfare experience; one such tactic being the third bomber's suicide attack, designed to lure in enemies to verify death, only for the bomb to catch them unaware, further contributing to confusion within the ranks of the enemy – in this case, us." Heero was impressed at Chang's ability to talk without breathing, his first gulp of air only then being taken. Treize raised a gentle hand, instantly silencing Chang, who had already braced himself to continue. His voice was calm and calculating as he spoke –

"Mr. Yuy, I believe you contributed information that seems to be relevant at this time." Heero nodded and began to recall what he had noticed earlier.

"From what I can tell, the terrorists aren't related to the group of protesters that had been there prior to the attack. This brings into question the origin of the other attacks that we had associated with the group." Khushrenada's response was decisive and automatic. Heero sometimes wondered if he was part cyborg, complete with a built-in teleprompter.

"While I do think this attack brings into question the origin of the other incidents, I feel that we should focus on a full investigation of this event before launching into theories that lack anything but the most solid of evidence. I believe Officer Chang can explain why a quick investigation is crucial at this time." Chang nodded, his rhythm notably slowed by the frequent interruptions and Khushrenada's calm, calculating demeanor.

"Investigative protocol calls for investigations to be completed within fourty-eight hours, but the weather forecast calls for rain tomorrow. This leaves us with only twenty-four hours to complete evidence collection and on-site forensic testing before the rain washes away any crucial evidence. Even with the unlimited resources the government has granted us, it will be tough to pull off – "

"But I have complete faith in the abilities of all personnel involved. On that note, I'll leave you to carry on the investigation. I expect hourly reports." Chang was unable to form any coherent response as Treize gracefully stood and exited the room, disappearing around the corner. Chang stood frozen mid-sentence, still trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

"You gotta be fuckin' me!" It was his subordinates cry that snapped him out of his stupor. Chang was quick to launch into a series of commands.

"Ok, listen up! Our best shot is to focus on evidence collection for now. On-site forensic testing has priority, bagging and tagging second. If it can be done later, worrying about getting it into lock-up for now!" Heero tuned his friend out, thinking back to the events just hours prior. The way the smoke burned at his eyes, the daze that settled into his head and numbed all thoughts and feelings. The way he'd lifted his gun to fire, only to find the hand empty of the object. The heat of the explosion.

"Yuy?" Heero snapped his head up, meeting Chang's concern-tinted eyes. "You alright?" Heero nodded firmly, glancing to see the room emptied of detectives. "Yes, just thinking." Both Heero and Chang turned to walk out the door, Chang muttering to him, "I don't think any of us understand how serious this situation is yet. Hey, how's your arm doing?" Heero rubbed his hand over the wound he'd bandaged himself, biting back a flinch at the sudden pain. "It's fine."

---

Trowa ran his hand gently up and down Quatre's arm, holding his sleeping lover's head against his chest. They sat in a small, private waiting room as the doctor operated on Duo. A pain stabbed at Trowa's chest as he thought of Quatre's frantic call to Rashid, who was halfway across town simulating Quatre's presence in a resort hotel's penthouse. The delirious screaming of his master had the man at Trowa's door within five minutes, amazing Trowa that the man had been able to cut short an easily thirty-minute drive into a fraction of the time. And in a limousine no less. Trowa worried that hindsight may prove that to have been a bad idea – limousines rushing into the heart of the slums at breakneck speeds were anything but low-key, which is exactly what Duo needed at such a time.

It was lucky for Duo that Quatre knew a doctor who "could be paid to be kept quiet". Had they gone to the emergency room, Duo would have been sitting for hours waiting his turn in line, most likely to die in the process. And yet, Trowa shuddered when he thought of the costs of the speedy care Duo was getting, which was only possible through wheeling and dealing on Quatre's part. The legality of it was questionable.

He gave the sleeping man a light squeeze. Quatre, heir to a small yet highly successful country in the Middle East, was a very influential individual. Where his political influence failed to reach, his disarming and kind-hearted personality easily extended. And when both failed, he was heavily armed with the brute force of the dollar bill. It was a useful weapon, especially in the socialist society the government had established since the end of the war. Their efforts to achieve "equality on all levels" had succeeded, turning the world into a system of mediocrity. There were, as there always are, those that slipped through the cracks – on both sides of the class gap. Those in power soared to the highest peaks of wealth. Those who wished to retain their dignity, who refused to indulge in the measly government handouts, plummeted to the depths of poverty.

Trowa teetered on a fine line between the desperately poor and proletariat – the only distinction being the small home in the slums he was barely able to afford.

His wandering mind was dragged back to reality when Quatre's head snapped up violently, the doctor walking through the door.

"How is he!? Is he ok!? Did he – " The doctor cut into Quatre's frantic string of questions quickly.

"Your friend is fine. The blood loss was the worst of it. The shot was through and through – he was actually quite lucky. The bullet only nicked his brachial artery, and tucked nicely in the gap between the artery and Superior ulnar collateral. It could have been much worse." A nurse wheeled Duo out – sickly and pale, slumped to the side in a lifeless heap.

"He'll want to avoid any kind of strenuous activity, especially anything that might strain his arm. The wound may not have been lethal, but the muscle damage will take time to heal. He also needs to be careful not to re-open the nick to the artery. He'll risk losing his arm otherwise." Quatre nodded, taking mental notes, before adding, "If you can keep this off the books, consider your fee doubled." Quatre motioned for Trowa to wheel Duo out of the room, staying behind to discuss any future appointments and payment methods.

---

Heero and Chang stepped out of the sleek, black government-issued vehicle, looking around at forensic team buzzing around the taxi cab. They'd already visited the crime scene in front of the Headquarters building, and were now checking up on a lead called in by a taxi driver. The driver had reported a man in a trench coat, closely matching the description of the man Heero had seen, taking his cab into the slums the night of the attack. The investigators at the scene had already interrogated him, with little useful information to report. He had not seen the man's face – it was dark, the man wore his hat and glasses in the cab. The bills had already been lost in the taxi company's main office, though the driver assured them the man had worn gloves.

"Captain!" Yuy followed Chang as he all but ran to the investigator.

"We've found trace evidence of blood on the window lining. Not enough for any DNA tests, but it could mean the attacker was wounded! We should check the hospitals for –"

"For what? A wounded man in a trench coat who walked from the slums to a hospital? After taking the cab _away_ from medical assistance_? _Sift through the hundreds of others already in the hospitals, on top of the influx of wounded from the attack itself? Not even mentioning the futility of the effort, the time it would take to do all of that is more than we have." Yuy could see the stress already settling on Chang's face.

"But the blood –"

"Shows nothing! Blood in a cab is hardly a breakthrough, it's a guarantee! Why don't we test the vomit too!? There's at least a million times more of that in the cab! What are we supposed to do with spots of blood in the lining of a window! Really, detective? This is the best you can do!?"

"Chang –" His attempt to calm the fuming Asian was cut short when he abruptly walked away. Heero quickly went after him, finally catching up as he was getting into the car.

"What the hell was that about?" Chang looked at him wearily as he started the car. "Yuy, I'm too tired to deal with detectives who are too eager to look good for a shot at a promotion to see evidence objectively. We'll have better luck searching the neighborhood where the suspect was dropped off."

---

Trowa buried his face in the blond head of hair resting on his chest. Duo, asleep from the medications for his pain, had been settled into the poor excuse of a bed he and Quatre usually shared, while he and Quatre took refuge on the beat-up couch in the living room. The orange glow of the streetlights gave the dirty windows an almost surreal look, while the glow of the fire in their sub-standard fireplace cast dancing shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Quatre had spent the day fawning over Duo's unconscious form. Every grunt was met with a panicked response – Trowa had made five calls to the doctor over little more than changes in position.

Though he had to admit – spending time with Quatre, albeit a busily panicked one, was a good vacation from the planning of attacks. And while he may have been the only operative to come out unscathed, the plan went surprisingly well. And the fact that the authorities hadn't kicked in his door pointed towards a clean getaway.

There was a knock at the door – probably Rashid, who had promised to bring Quatre some tea imported from his homeland. Tea always calmed Quatre down whenever he was in one of his moods, and Trowa had calm to enjoy the tea both for its taste and as appreciation for the burden it lifted from his life – as much as he loved the blond, Quatre's hyperactive response to stressful situations could quickly wear a man down. He untangled himself from the sleeping man, careful not to wake him. He cracked the door just slightly, a habit he'd developed when answering the door.

Mr. Barton? My name is Special Agent Heero Yuy, and this is my partner, Officer Chang. We have some questions we'd like to ask you."


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews and everything, guys. I really wanna keep this story going, and it helps to know that people actually read what I write.

So anyways -- read, review, favorite, all that stuff, and I promise to update soon.

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**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

"... Mr. Barton? Is there a problem?" Trowa snapped out of his daze, the shock still sending tremors through his nerves. He knew he had to get his act together _fast_, or risk raising suspicion. He forced himself to take a deep breath, calming himself as much as possible.

"No, no problem at all, detective. I was just surprised to see law enforcement in this neighborhood. Please, come in." Trowa opened the door and stepped aside, catching the wary look two men gave each other at this sight of his broken-down home. He stepped past them and began to wake up Quatre, making sure to use his chosen pseudonym to let him know that they were not alone, while also preparing him for the shock of their visitors.

"Qasim, wake up. We have guests." Quatre sighed as he lifted his head, rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Trowa had expected a much more noticeable reaction, but Quatre, even before he was fully awake, stepped into his role flawlessly.

"Hmm...? Oh, hello. It's a pleasure to meet you." Trowa ushered the two men into the room, gesturing for them to sit in chairs opposite the couch before standing behind the couch, leaning on the back cushion next to the blond.l "Qasim, this is Special Agent... Yuy, was it? And Officer Chang?" Trowa could see a small, nervous flash in Quatre's eyes, which quickly passed as he once again resumed his act. The detectives just nodded their heads.

"Ahhh, to what do we owe this visit? Officers of the law rare visit this neighborhood." Chang nodded his head idly.

"I'm sure it is a bit out of the ordinary. I take it you've heard of the attack downtown?" Quatre nodded his head slowly, a solemn look materializing on his face. Trowa had to admit – Quatre could put on first-class acts when he needed to; any emotion, real or not, seemed impossibly genuine – a trait that served him well during his days as a politician.

"Yes, I heard. I hope that no one was injured too seriously?" Yuy stepped in as Chang's eyes flashed in anger. The loss of his men was a painful wound.

"Most of the casualties were police officers. The attack was very professional. Whoever was behind it must be very clever..." Trowa made sure to keep his facial features still, maintaining a look of interest in what the detective was saying – they were baiting; dropping compliments to get a positive reaction. If a person were so careless as to smile at the compliment, it would be a dead giveaway that they were involved. He wasn't sure why they were baiting _him, _though_ –_ it was possible that they were just testing everyone in the neighborhood. They had no reason to suspect him, and it would certainly not be two detectives coming to visit him if they had any reason to believe he was involved – it would be an entire police squad.

"That's too bad... I don't mean to involve myself, but have you made any breakthroughs in the case?" Trowa caught himself before making the mistake of glancing towards Quatre. He was mentally berating the blond for such a mistake – suspects often took a special interest in the case when near investigators. The Chinese officer seemed to stare at Quatre as his partner answered, possibly aware of the blond's mistake. Trowa only hoped that Quatre would know to drop the subject and not pry for too much information.

"The case is going quite well, given the circumstances. We have reports that one of the terrorists hailed a taxi and was dropped off a few blocks away. We're just interviewing everyone in the area, hoping they saw which way the man might have gone. Did either of you see anything?" Trowa took the offered information as a good sign. They weren't overly suspicious. It might even be a good chance to take an active role in manipulating the investigation, though they had to be careful that their story matched up with any others the investigators had obtained.

However, Trowa's plotting, and even his composure for that matter, were blown away when the bedroom door behind him creaked open. Duo, still under the effects of the medication, staggered out, took one look at the two men sitting across the room. Trowa paled as the long-haired men, his usual braid undone, spoke.

"What the fuck'n pigs doin' 'ere?" Trowa could see both detectives' eyes widen at the slurred question. He had to act fast.

"They're here asking if we'd seen anything unusual the other night. Qasim, can you get him back to bed? He needs his rest." Quatre nodded hastily, bolting across the room and all but throwing Duo back into the bedroom. Trowa did his best to repair the damage.

"I apologize, he was injured in the attack and is still heavily medicated. He usually is much more pleasa–" All three men stared at the door as a slap echoed through the house. Silence descended, only to be broken when Quatre opened the door, his cheek clearly reddened and swelling. Duo once again appeared, stumbling after the blond.

"I'sorry, Q-man! Y'gotta learn when to take no for 'n answer, 'ough." The blue-eyed man attempted to ask Duo as a question, although Trowa couldn't figure out why he would possibly attempt to communicate with the staggering man, obviously wasted man.

"Your friend told me you witnessed the attack. Do you mind answering a few questions for us?" Trowa's attempt to explain that he was too medicated to answer any questions with lucidity was cut off by Duo, who had already launched into his description of the attack.

"Yeah, man! Big booms and smoke 'nd shit, 'nd then there was shootin' and screamin' an' 'ext thing I know m' arm's bleedin'! That's th' last thing I remember." Duo spawled himself across the couch, with Quatre quickly at his side. Trowa wasn't sure if Duo was asleep or unconscious, but he was glad he was quiet. He glanced over at the detectives, who were stunned in disbelief. Trowa broke into the awkward silence.

"As I was about to say, I don't think you'll get much information from him in his condition." Trowa looked over to see Quatre fighting with Duo futilely, who had begun entertaining himself by poking the blond's cheeks and laughing hysterically. "Was there anything else we could help you with?"

"Actually, I think you were interrupted before you could answer our first question. Did either of you see anything the night of the attack?" Trowa decided that, for the moment, the safe route might be best.

"No, I'm sorry to say that we were busy helping Duo. We spent most of the night waiting in the emergency room, and I'm not entirely sure what time we returned." He could see a look of disappointment cross the agent's face.

"Are you sure you didn't see anything at all?" Trowa nodded firmly.

"We were so busy with Duo that I'm not sure we would have noticed anything even if we'd seen it. As you can see, Duo is quite a handful, especially when he's medicated." He smiled at his friend, who had sprawled out across Quatre. Agent Yuy stood, reaching into his pocket. He handed Trowa a business card.

"Please, if you remember anything at all, give us a call. I'd also like to come back and interview your friend, if possible. Maybe when he's less... medicated? It's possible he might have seen something that could give us a lead." Trowa nodded his head as he began to lead the detectives out, making light banter to feign civility. As he closed the door, he turned to give Quatre a look of relief. Duo had removed himself from Quatre's personal space and fallen asleep on the couch, burying his face in the pillow Trowa and Quatre had been using the nights before. He crossed the room and turned his attention to Quatre once more, planting a gentle kiss on his swollen cheek.

"I'll go get some ice for that."

---

Heero waited until his partner had shut the door and gotten comfortable before discussing the... _encounter_ they'd just survived.

"You think any of that was real?" Chang asked, slight hints of stun and disbelief still remaining on his face. Heero's eyes, no matter how hard he tried to assume his usual poker face, stayed slightly widened.

"It had to be. No one could fake that... right?" Chang only stared straight ahead, slightly paled. "Yuy, you were kidding about going back there, weren't you?" Heero shook his head firmly.

"He might have seen something. And anything even _remotely_ useful is a blessing to us at this point." Chang's face sobered slightly, his mind obviously working on something.

"You think he could be involved?" The question made Heero snort.

"Wufei, be serious. The attackers _ambushed_ us. It required stealth, cunning, and ruthlessness to pull off the attack as well as they did. And let's face it – their loudmouthed friend couldn't have gotten within miles of us without drawing attention to himself. And I hardly classify that blond guy as "ruthless". The Pillsbury Doughboy is more ruthless than he could ever _hope_ to be." Heero let out a stressful sigh. "Our only hope is that their friend saw something we can use, otherwise this trip was a wash. "

Heero started the car and put it into gear, breaking the dazed awkwardness that filled the car by breaking into hearty chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Chang asked, a puzzled look beginning to break through his shock. Heero almost snorted as he thought of the reply.

"Can you believe their friend? I don't know if I should think he's a wino or just really that stupid!" Both men broke into laughter as Heero dug in his pocket for his ringing cellphone.

"Yuy."

The laughter instantly died as he cringed at the sugary voice loud enough to carry across the car, earning him a sympathetic look from the passenger seat. Wufei sat in respectful silence, much like one would at a funeral, as Heero ground his teeth at the nausea spreading from his stomach. His voice noticeably flat-lined as he talked.

"Relena, we've barely even begun the investigation. I can't tell you how long it will take."

He let out a long sigh and turned his attention to the metallic streetlights that adorned the city streets, far from the wooden, dirty ones in the slums they were emerging from. The streets became noticeably cleaner as they entered the city, his replies becoming little more than grunts of affirmation – affirmation that he was still on the line.

"Relena, as much as I... _miss_ you," his face visibly cringing as he ground the word, earning yet another sympathetic look from Chang, "it is of the utmost importance for any and all available resources to be put into bringing what is a highly dangerous threat to an end. You know that, and you know it's important for the safety of the people. I'll... talk to you later." The phone shut with a mocking snap, almost as if it too were biting at his hand. Chang sat awkwardly in silence, staring at the window as Heero gave a painful sigh.

"You need to make up your mind, Yuy."

"Please Cha–"

"No, Yuy, you have to, and you have to do it soon! Either grow a pair and tell her how much you dislike her or go ahead and doom yourself to a life of misery at her beckoned call. But do not dangle yourself between the two and try to go on with your life! It will only serve in allowing both doors to close while you fall into ruin."

"Which I'll do anyways if I deny '_The'_ Relena Peacecraft. I just –"

"Just what? Just want to sit idly by and be her little doll to play with and ogle?"

"Chang..."

"Just want to live a life of misery and masochism while she treats you like her little trophy?"

"Chang!" The bark finally stopped his tirade, both men slipping into yet another awkward silence.

"Wufei, just... just not now, alright?"

"Whatever you want, Yuy. You know how I feel about the subject. But I highly advise you to use this time away from her to discover what you truly want. I saw you happy for the first time in months back there, and then I saw it all slip away at the sound of her voice. You're my friend, and I don't want to see you put yourself through that, no matter how high or how classy or of what pedigree the person may be. And you know me – it takes a lot for me to say that. But for you? I do. You deserve more than you have, than you _will ever _have, by being her little toy."

Heero nodded numbly, his mind wrapping around his best friend's words. Chang had always been able to point him in the right direction, even when he did his best to fight it. His patience, logic, bluntness, and fiery stabs in exactly the right places were impossible to prepare for, and even worse – he was always right.

---

Duo groaned in pain as consciousness descended upon him, the light of the afternoon sun trickling in through the cracked windows of the bedroom. He knew immediately that something was wrong – the bedroom belonged to Trowa and Quatre, an agreement by all parties concerned to allow the couple more privacy. So why was he in the bed? And why did he feel dizzy?

The cracked door whined as it was pushed open further. Quatre, who was busy juggling a blanket and two glasses of water, stepped into the room. He had managed to find a place for all objects before noticing Duo's consciousness.

"Oh! You're awake!" Duo sat up slightly, groaning as his arm sent jolts of pain through his body.

"Stop moving, you're hurt. And take this pill, the doctor told me to give it to you when you woke up." A glass was handed to him as a moderately-sized pill was presented. He looked at it suspiciously, having just decided to reject it when Quatre quickly shoved it into his mouth.

"If you're going to act like a child, I'm going to have to treat you like a child." The pill, now wet with his saliva, sent shivers through every muscle as the bitter taste exploded in his mouth. He grabbed at the glass of water, gulping it down to rid his mouth of the awful taste.

"The hell, man!?" Quatre didn't even break stride, still busily arranging things throughout the room.

"Do not 'the hell' me! You scared the shit out of me! Waltzing up to the door, collapsing into my arms as you bled to death! You promised me you wouldn't get hurt, and what do you do!? You go and get yourself shot! And what's worse – you waited _hours_ to even come home, yet alone get yourself help! All while bleeding out of an open wound! Your dumbass stubbornness got you into this mess, and 'the hell' I'm going to let it be the death of you! Do you understand me!?" Blue, usually serene, eyes roared with anger as Quatre set his glare directly into Duo's pointblank, having crossed the room during his tirade.

Duo knew better than to argue with Quatre when the blond was angry – a rare, but highly dangerous phenomenon that occurred only when his friends were in danger. He resigned and looked down, breaking the eye contact. Fragmented memories returned to him – the attack, getting home after the surgery, Quatre trying to rape him – _wha...?_

"Did you try to rape me?" The question was much more blunt than he'd intended, though Quatre understood immediately.

"No, nothing like that. Some officers were here, and –" It was then that Duo noticed the bruise on his best friend's face, anger immediately welling.

"'d those fuckin' pigs do that to you!? 'Cause I swear if they did!" A steady hand was raised, stopping him before he could get started.

"No, nothing of the sort. You staggered out during our conversation, and slapped me while I was trying to get you back into bed." Duo could only muster a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Guess I've always been a violent drunk, huh?"

"No, Duo – you're a silly drunk with violent tendencies." Quatre laughed.

Duo began to laugh as well, but sobered slightly before asking what feared him the most.

"So the pigs caught on, huh?"

"I'd like to hope not, but we'll see tomorrow. They're coming back to ask you questions about what you saw." Duo nodded slightly before realizing what Quatre had said.

"_They're WHAT!?"_


	4. Chapter 4

I think this chapter was the most fun to write – and it came out easier than the others once I sat down at started writing it. 90% of anything I do is getting motivation, but it felt more like 99% with this.

Anyways, I have a standard policy – you review and all that, and I'll write the next chapter faster. And this story I'm enjoying, so... anyways. Feedback is greatly appreciated. And feel free to throw me an email if you notice any spelling or grammatical errors.

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

The car rolled to a stop as Heero and Chang prepared for another encounter with the loud-mouthed, braided terror that was Duo Maxwell. Heero could see the dread on his friend's face, yet found himself oddly excited. Of course, the investigation was at a complete standstill and hinged on whatever this witness could tell them, but it was for another reason that he looked forward to the meeting – the braided man intrigued him.

He wasn't sure why, but something about the way the man ran his mouth without a care in the world to the consequences threw him off balance – a feeling few others could instill in him. It was new, and a part of him begged for something "new" in his life.

The two men walked towards the door, knocking on the dirty, cracked glass through the metal bars of the wrought iron storm door, a clear sign that visitors were rarely welcome. A quick glance down the street reminded him that security was an issue in this neighborhood – that visitors rarely had good intentions – and understood the need for such precautions.

"God have mercy on us...", he heard Chang mutter. He couldn't help but smirk at the look on his friend's face, a look he would expect from someone about to be given a shot – right in the ass. His friend had been so traumatized by the man that he even ordered some of the detectives to double check his visit to the hospital – just to make sure whatever drugs their witness had been on was prescribed.

The mood turned serious as the same man from before, Barton if he remembered right, peeked through the crack in the door as he opened it just enough to see who it was. He closed the door again, and, after the sound of locks being turned, opened the door for the two men.

"Hello detectives, how nice to see you again so soon." Heero studied the man's face closely, finding himself annoyed by the unreadable expression and inflection-less voice – just enough to prove neither sarcastic nor genuine. The man turned and led them into the living room before he could study him further. His instincts told him to be suspicious, though logic could find no reason to think he was a threat. He was... so innocent he seemed guilty. The blond emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen – though he had difficulty telling what it was underneath all of the dirt, filth, and dead cockroaches – cheek still noticeably stolen.

"Detectives! Welcome back! I take it you're here to follow up with Duo?" Unlike the other man, the blond made no effort to disguise any emotions – although the syrupy sweetness of his mood was clearly one of feigned civility, as genuine as the feelings may have been. He walked into the kitchen once again, returning with a tray of tea cups. "Have some tea while I go get him." He set the tray on a small, scratched-up coffee table in front of them, before disappearing through the door behind the couch. Chang eyed the liquid suspiciously. The blond returned seconds later, walking around to sit on the couch.

"He'll be right out. It takes him some time to wake up in the morning – he's more of a night person, unlike myself." Chang nodded idly as Heero watched the door eagerly. Chang glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you so excited about?", he asked. Heero only shrugged. The door whined as it opened, a pained look on the face of the braided brunette as he staggered over to the couch. The blond was quick to introduce everyone.

"Duo, these are detectives Yuy and Chang. They've come to ask about what you saw at the bombing." Heero noticed the weary glance the injured man threw his friend's way, only at that moment picking up on nervousness.

"Well...", he began slowly, "I remember seeing the police all lined up 'nd shit in front of some guys, bitchin' about permits or somethin' stupid –"

"The protesters lacked the appropriate registration." Chang interrupted, an angry glint in his eyes. Duo only looked slightly amused at the Chinese man's reaction, far short of the intimidation intended.

"Yeah, whatever. Anyways, so like I was sayin' – the pigs was all up on 'em about permits and stuff, then there are explosions 'nd screams 'nd shit, then somethin' hits my arm while I was runnin' away. Don't really remember much after that, ya know – arm bleedin' 'nd all." Heero felt his excitement sink, realizing that their only witness could tell them less than they already knew. Chang broke the small silence that the conversation slipped into.

"Why were you there?" Duo opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short of an actual sound. A confused look crossed his face, before he replied.

"Huh?" Chang looked him square in the eyes, repeating his question firmly.

"Why were you there? For what reason did you go all the way from the slums to the upper-class area of the city? It's not like you had any business being there..." What would obviously have been an angry response was stopped as the expressionless man placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving him a placating look. A deep breath and moment of thought later, Duo answered.

"I heard about the protest and thought I'd check it out, ya know?"

"And what about the hours after the attack? Where did you go?" Duo looked at him slightly confused.

"I told you, I don't remember."

"Yes, I understand. But you _need_ to remember. Your friend told me yesterday that they spent the night in the emergency room with you – and while the wait in an emergency room _does _take a considerable amount of time, that leaves an entire late morning and early afternoon unaccounted for. _So_ – where did you go?" The braided man was stunned, mouth hanging open slightly.

"U-uhhh... I don't know, alright? I don't remember. Nothin' more I can say 'bout it." Heero glanced over at Wufei, curious about his partner's line of questioning. The Chinese officer excused himself when his phone rang, leaving Heero to continue by himself. He decided to lighten the mood by engaging in more conversational than interrogative questionings.

"Mr. Maxwell, is your arm doing better?" Duo rubbed his arm a bit, grimacing at the slight pain.

"It's alright – been better, ya know? They told me the doc said I was lucky. Can't say that's something anyone's ever accused me of being!" His laugh and toothy smile led Heero to smile lightly as well – until Wufei burst back in the room and headed straight for their witness.

"Duo Maxwell, you're under arrest for suspicion of terrorist activities against the state. You have the right to remain silent –"

"What the hell, man!?" Heero found himself stunned by disbelief, watching as the blond man called for his friend while Duo struggled against Wufei's attempts to handcuff him.

"Chang, what's going on?", he asked, elements of concern and confusion lacing his voice.

"That was a call from the emergency room – they have no records of a Duo Maxwell coming in for medical treatment the night of the attack. He lied to us, Yuy." Duo, struggling and fighting, shot his blond friend looks of concern.

"It'll be alright Duo, we'll work this out. Detectives, I expect you to treat him lawfully and with respect – if anything happens to his arm, I'll make sure you're held responsible." Chang only scoffed at the threat, leading Duo, who was angrily thrashing his legs in any direction possible, out the door. Heero made sure to grab the injured arm firmly, attempting to protect it from being damaged any further.

By the time they had gotten the thrashing man to the car, his objections had become as much vocal as they were physical,

"Let go of me, you motherfucking gorilla! This is police brutality! Come on, take the cuffs off – make it a fair fight, ya candy-ass pansy!" Chang was less than gentle in shoving the angry man into the back of the car, walking around to the driver's seat briskly in an attempt to keep his anger reigned in.

"God, don't you ever _shut up_!?"

"Come back here and make me! Stop bein' such a pussy and fight me!"

"You have the right to remain silent – _use it!" _Heero only shook his head at his partner's exchange with the witness. It was going to be a _long _ride back to the station.

---

Trowa pulled the panicking Quatre into a firm embrace, whispering into his ear in an attempt to calm him down.

"Quatre, Duo needs you to be strong right now. You need to call your lawyer and have him work on getting Duo out of there. While you're doing that, I'll go see about getting one of the other leaders to speed up their plans a bit." Quatre nodded quietly, a small sniffle escaping as he headed for the phone. Trowa headed for the door while his blond made the call to the lawyer. They _would_ get Duo out of this mess.

---

Heero met a clearly frustrated Chang outside the interrogation room, finding himself laughing at his friend's misfortune.

"No luck, I take it?"

"His last words were 'Fuck you and the whore you came from.' After that, he shut his mouth – damn idiot can't do _anything _right, shuts his mouth when we want him to talk, talks when we want him to shut his mouth, _idiot_!" Heero wondered if the suspect had shut his mouth voluntarily – cracks about his mother were the fastest way to turn the usually restrained Wufei into a violent whirl of Chinese fury.

Heero decided that the less he knew about his partner's actions, the better. That way, he could honestly say he didn't see his partner hit a suspect – just in internal affairs got wind of anything. It wasn't hard to convince them to look the other way, no matter the evidence. He stepped into the room, instantly noticing the eerie silence of the witness. Wufei grabbed his shoulder and whispered in his ear before he went through the door –

"They say the most dangerous moments of war are the ones of silence."

I had to crack a quick smile, swallowing it as I walked in view of the suspect. Chang could be funny at times, despite what others said.

"Not sayin' nothin'." Heero allowed for a few more moments of silence, spreading out pictures of the bombing site in front of the suspect. It was his usual method – fix a steady glare on the suspect and let the silence eat away at him. Silence was better than any method of interrogation or torture. His hope lifted as the man on the other side of the table began shifting, but found it quickly deflating when he found a comfortable position and settled in, shooting a steadied glare right back into his own.

Destabilizing him was clearly the first task at hand – most suspects were unnerved by the wait and the interrogation room, but some were stronger than most. This was one of the stronger ones. Heero decided to take a less predictable approach – predictability was clearly what made the suspect comfortable, so defying the common approach would leave him guessing.

"You're quiet for someone who spent most of the ride yelling at us." He waited a few seconds, waiting for any kind of reaction. All the suspect did was continue to stare at the floor.

"We can't help you if you don't talk."

"Ya ain't tryin' to help me – you're tryin' to prove I did it. I ain't gonna help ya do that." Heero mentally cursed himself – he'd used that line dozens of times before, and _none_ of the suspects had thought to throw that back at him. Wufei would be stunned that the loud-mouthed brunette had any sort of intelligence underneath all of his stupidity.

"You could try to prove to us that you didn't do it."

"Nope."

Heero felt his eyebrows furrow, despite such an action being against every ounce of his training not to let weaknesses show through his usually emotionless mask. The suspect was bordering on illogical now – readily admitting that he wouldn't help his own defense, despite what was assumed to be his declared innocence.

"Did you do it?" He had to establish some sort of logic. Maybe he was admitting that he couldn't prove he didn't do it.

"Not tellin' ya." Again, an illogical response.

"So you aren't going to say that you didn't do it?"

"Maybe." Heero found himself scoffing at himself – he should have expected it; he couldn't have seen it coming, but he should have expected it. The witness was playing dumb, just like a toddler would.

"Mr. Maxwell, this isn't a game –"

"The hell it ain't. You got all your fancy little 'tactics' 'nd shit. You just ain't used to havin' someone come back at ya with 'em."

"Mr. Maxwell, we _will _hold you for as long as necessary to conduct this interrogation."

"Go ahead."

"You're calling a bluff that doesn't exist – that wasn't a bluff, it was a _threat_. You can either cooperate, or be held for hindering a federal investigation."

"'kay."

"That's all you've got to say?" He knew he was grasping for a handle on the interrogation, but he felt a sense of accomplishment when the suspect finally looked him square in the eye, shifting to lean himself forward by hanging from his arms handcuffed behind the chair.

"Way I see it, you're the one that needs me. I can be here as long as it takes for you to let me go. I grew up on the streets, jail cells are decent compared to some of the shit I've slept in. And anyways, we both know that the more time I waste, the more nervous you'll get about wastin' time on a bad lead instead of investigatin' your precious case. And I know you can't prove I did it since I didn't, so it's just a matter of time 'til you let me go."

"So you aren't cooperating to spite us?" The violet gaze set on him instantly flared with anger.

"Naw shit, Sherlock. Ya come to interrogate me as a witness, then end up arrestin' me as a suspect, pullin' me out of my house and draggin' me downtown. So yeah – I'm just spitin' ya now. Damn, man – I hope you're a better detective than this, or this case ain't ever gonna get solved!" Heero found himself at the end of his patience – heart pounding, sweat pouring, fingers tapping nervously.

"Can you explain why we have no records of your visit to the emergency room?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I was just all kinds of conscious during the time I couldn't remember nothin' – _what the hell kinda stupid question is that!? _Ya think I remember anythin'? Ya wanna know that – ask my friends. Or didn't ya think to?"

"I could have them brought in, if that's what you want." Heero knew it was a bluff, but maybe he would change his tune if his friends were involved.

"Go ahead, spread this shit around. How ya think it's gonna look when a bad lead turns into a multiple arrest that got the case nowhere? Dumbass..."

_Or not._

Or maybe...

"You keep this kind of attitude up and it'll just make me and my partner mad. And I've just got to wonder – were the painkillers you were taking obtained legally? Because your friends would be the ones who would have obtained them. They'd be responsible, not you. And that's... what? Both possession and distribution of a controlled substance. Do you really want us to go there?"

"Trowa and Q don't do nothin' wrong. They wouldn't 'ave done it." Heero studied the face carefully, searching for even the slightest hint of fear. Or concern. _Anything_ –

nothing.

He turned around to look at the mirror, knowing his partner would be on the other side. He mouthed three words that were crossing both their minds in tandem:

_He knows something_.

Maybe not something related to the case, but no suspect was this comfortable, even if they were innocent, unless they knew something that would shield them from any kind of charges; any kind of interrogation methods. He knew he was safe from anything physical, verbal, legal – no threat would touch him.

It took a special kind of safeguard to ensure this kind of protection.

He was alerted by the sounds of shouting outside the door, and found himself on his feet when the door swung open. The blond man, taller man close in tow, along with a chubby man in a suit pushed their way by the officer into the room. He could hear the door behind the glass slam as Chang hurried to his side.

"What the hell is he still doing in handcuffs!? Un-cuff him – now! And you'd better have one hell of an explanation for why he isn't being represented by council during this interrogation!"

"Sir, you aren't allowed in here. Escort them out please." The officer who'd been shoved out of the way looked at him helplessly. Before Chang could find his ground, he found a furious blond in his face – Heero hadn't even considered the small man capable of such fury.

"Explain why he has no representation! NOW!"

"He didn't ask for it.", Heero offered, trying to bail his friend out. It served only to remove the blond from Chang's personal bubble, but brought him directly into his own.

"Bullshit! He's well aware of his rights!"

"I may remember something along the lines of 'lawyer' being mentioned when we brought him in, but it doesn't matter – he's not given that right during an investigation into terrorist activity."

"He was guaranteed that right when you arrested him! I _witnessed_ it!"

"Standard arrest procedure. His rights lasted only until the charges were filed, at which point they were rescinded. He was also given the right to remain silent, which I'll mention he failed to utilize."

"You'd better have a hell of a case against him for terrorism, or I'll make sure ever resource at my disposal is brought down to _crush you._" Life seeped back into Chang's face at the threat – threats were not welcomed by his friend.

"You're lucky we didn't bring _you_ in! You lied about his whereabouts! It was enough to bring him in!"

"Let me inform you then, we –"

"Good. _Inform us_." Anger flashed across the blond's face once again.

"We didn't take him to the emergency room – we took him to a private doctor for surgery. I'm sure you can understand why I avoided self-incrimination. He has an alibi, which means you no longer have a case. I want the handcuffs off. _Now!"_

"I find it hard to believe you possess the necessary resources to gain him access to such spontaneous medical treatment, Mr. –"

"Winner. Not Qasim. I lied. My name is Quatre – Quatre. Raberba. Winner. –"

"The hell it is!"

"– And while we're introducing ourselves, Officer Chang, I'd like to introduce you to my attorney, who will ensure that my friend is released. Unless you'd like to do it yourself." Chang's slowly began to resign to his defeat as the lawyer began reciting the many reasons why the suspect would be released. It was the quality of the lawyer that drove the point home – _a Winner_. It was _better_ than a "get out of jail free" card.

"Mr. Maxwell, you're free to go...", Chang ground out.

"You bet your ass he is! Come on, Trowa! And Allah have mercy on you if a single stitch was torn while you were manhandling him!"

The cuffs were removed and the group were escorted out, leaving a winded Chang and stunned Heero left alone in the path of destruction. Seconds of silence passed before Chang showed signs of life.

"GODDAMNIT!" Chang's voice was nothing short of a roar, bouncing off the walls of the interrogation room.

"Yeah..."

"We had one fucking witness and now he won't cooperate! And even if he would, he's got a damn _Winner_ guarding him! Fucking shit! And where the hell did he find a Winner anyways!?"

Heero nodded his head dumbly as his partner answered the phone. He noticed the paling of his face as the call went on, and found himself wondering what the blond had threatened while leaving the station. It wasn't until Chang staggered back and collapsed into the seat that he knew something was wrong – more wrong than an angry Winner brandishing an attorney. Chang closed the phone and dropped it on the floor, running a hand across his clammy face.

"Chang, what –"

"Another bombing. Twenty minutes ago..."

_Another bombing..._


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Sorry this update has been so long in coming -- I've been busy =o

I hope this chapter makes up for it. Review to let me know!

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

He stood staring at the carnage – twisted metal engulfed in flames the firefighters were still struggling to control, debris littering the street. The first attack had been cocky, an invasive and public attack that sent a message – the government wasn't safe. But this attack... while half the political implication, was twice the destruction.

Witnesses said a rocket fired from the window of a building, straight into a truck transporting jellied gasoline to a military industrial complex – the explosion was nothing short of a firebomb straight out of hell.

Like the first, it was well planned – a sudden strike out of nowhere and a clean escape; much cleaner than the first. No bodies, no evidence, the attackers even left the weapon behind – a military-issued Predator SRAW, most likely fitted with the standard javelin anti-tank missile.

The implications of their arsenal was as serious as the attack itself – they had connections to the U.N. Military. Clearly the attackers were skilled weaponeers; the first attack had utilized standard explosives, the firebomb being a homemade device, though not as crude as mode homemade bombs tended to be. But this attack – this attack used weaponry that took advanced training.

"The weapon was clean of prints." Wufei said from behind him, approaching. He took a moment to join Heero's silent study of the scene.

"Did you expect their to be any?"

"No. I guess not." They watched as the firemen continued to struggle with the flames still burning in the truck.

"Detectives!" The pair turned to meet the junior detective running towards them, excitement spread across his face. "I had an idea last night that I wasn't sure about, so I just sent it to the lab to be checked out when they had time. Their was a distinct chemical composition in the incendiary bomb used at the first attack – it's a special blend of alcohol, probably some kind of drink mixed in a specific bar! There isn't much to test, and most of the ingredients were burned up, but they're still trying to narrow it down as best they can to a specific drink. So far they've ruled out most of the brands that standard bars keep in stock, and the preliminary guess is that it's an underground mix."

Hope suddenly filled Heero's chest, so much so that a smile almost managed to creep across his stoic face. Almost.

"Good work, have that report sent to my office as soon as possible." The man was gone with a nod.

"This would be connected to underground scum." Heero didn't bother to respond, his mind already racing with possibilities.

"We need to get on this as soon as possible. You don't have any informants down there, do you?" A grim frown shadowed Chang's face.

"It's nearly impossible to get anyone down there. Most of the underground-goers are just street thugs that aren't in the loop of any actual organized crime. And those on the inside are so tightly knit that we can't pry anyone into their group. It's anarchy, Yuy – a general population of scum and riff-raff that aren't coherently collaborated in even the slightest way. Not only do they not collaborate, but half the time they're killing each other!" He let out a tired sigh. "Infiltrating the underground is like infiltrating a rat hole – the reward isn't worth the effort of trying to sift through the trash. Even if we got someone down there, they wouldn't know what they were looking for. It would be trying to dig through a landfill to find a specific piece of trash."

Heero's hope wavered, but didn't die.

"Then we'll need someone who knows what they're looking for. Got anything planned for tonight?" Wufei's eyebrow raised at the question.

"Sally's been bugging me to take her out to some new restaurant, but I can tell her – "

"No, it's fine. I can try my luck tonight. You can try tomorrow."

"Hah, yeah, 'luck'. More like an ice cube's change in hell. You really think either of us can pass as underground partiers?" Heero looked down at himself, frowning at his choice of dress – a cleanly pressed suit, dress shoes, heavily-starched shirt...

"Maybe if I messed up my hair and didn't take a shower..." Chang only laughed at his friend's attempt to be anything but perfect.

"Yeah, sure. You'd better go get started now – it will take you hours to dirty up all of that perfection."

---

Trowa watched in silence as Quatre busied himself shifting pillows around their friend, who was swatting at the blond's fettering.

"I'm fine, Quat!"

"You need another blanket. And stop moving that pillow! You have to keep your arm in a rested position!" The blond moved quickly to the closet to grab a blanket, unable to see the braided man behind him stubbornly remove the pillow from beneath him.

Trowa quietly moved towards the door when he heard a knock. He cracked it slightly – a methodical habit he'd picked up living in the rougher side of town. The man stood before him in dirtied, thick clothing, silently handing him a sheet of paper. He didn't know who the man was, but he knew what he was there for.

"Here's the document you wanted – the replacement was clean. You guys are good to go." Without another word, the man turned and walked away.

Trowa had requested agents to "clarify" the taxi records – Duo's only loose end. As far as the company's records were now concerned, Duo had been dropped off at a bus station near a club, roughly mid-afternoon; not late at night a few blocks from their home.

"Damnit, Quat! Stop it!"

Trowa moved to quickly intercept Quatre, who was busy fighting a blanket around Duo's body.

"Come here, Quatre. Help me get Duo some tea. He seems thirsty." He knew it was a petty move – distracting Quatre by using the blond's own concern against him. But he did what worked, and he wanted the blond alone. Following close behind his lover, he grabbed the other's shoulder once they were in the kitchen and shoved him up against the wall, claiming the pouty lips in a fiery kiss. He pulled away after a moment, watching the breathless panting of his lover beneath him.

"Trowa..." He pressed his own forehead against Quatre's, ghosting heated breaths over the the lips in front of him.

"You need to relax. He'll be fine." Quatre tensed away suddenly – though in a way much more subdued than ordinarily would have been – and moved across the kitchen towards the sink.

"I shouldn't have to wonder. I should have helped him more."

Trowa stood – silent, familiar worries flooding through him. He'd long been concerned of Quatre's involvement in the group's activities, knowing that between Duo's influence and his own, the blond was likely to involve himself in matters far more dangerous than Trowa could ever imagine seeing him involved with. When it was Duo in danger, he could worry – but Duo could handle himself. When it was himself, he didn't worry – he wasn't afraid of death. But to lose Quatre, fragile and innocent, would be far worse than death – the guilt alone would kill him, not even mentioning the grief of losing his lover.

His only relief was in Duo's personality – Duo was an idiot. Sure, maybe the statement was harsh; he was a highly intelligent individual. But his thirst for adrenaline, disregard for personal safety, and lack of ability to differentiate between an exciting thrill and suicide undid every ounce of intelligence the man possessed.

And, while this concerned him, he appreciated the opportunity it offered him – Quatre could easily be distracted by his worry over Duo's safety. He knew the blond would bend over backwards to take care of his friend, and if it was kept busy – he wouldn't need to busy himself with any missions.

Which is exactly why it bothered him that Quatre involved himself in Duo's release.

"Quatre..."

"No, Trowa! He almost died! Then he almost got caught! And it's by Allah's grace that they the cops didn't re-open the stitching! He could have bled to death!" Trowa moved fast, grabbing the blond from behind and forcing him to set down the tea pot he was about to drop from his shaking hands.

"He's alright. You couldn't have done anything else, you probably did more than you should have. The best thing you can do to help Duo is not put yourself in danger. Just be there to help him when he gets hurt. You can't protect him, Quatre." His lover slumped against him, choking on his sobs as he tried to stay quiet. He held him close, rubbing the silky arms beneath him.

"You two are my everything, Trowa." He blew hushes in Quatre's ear, pulling him gently towards the bedroom.

"I know, Quatre. I know. Come to bed with me." Quatre nodded against his chest as they moved awkwardly. Once inside, gently sat the other down on the bed, nipping at one of the most sensitive spots on the neck below him, earning a breathy moan.

"I love you, Quatre." Quatre could only manage a nod and a whimper as Trowa sucked harder on the milky skin.

"Tr-oh! Trowa! Wh-what about Duo?"

"No, you're all mine. He can go find someone else to fuck him senseless." He could feel the last of Quatre's resolve slipping as he ghosted a hand over the other's bulge, cupping it in his hand and rubbing gently. It was with a grunt that Quatre's resistance finally shattered.

"Hngh! Please, Trowa! More!"

---

Heero stood on the dirty street, glancing at his reflection in the window of an abandoned building. His hair had been easy to fix – he kept it tousled and slightly messy; short hair was easy to clean, he could wash it in the morning and dry it with only a few moments of rubbing. That was his daily grooming.

His clothing, however, was a different matter. He'd left Chang to handle the investigation while he met with Sally Po, Chang's girlfriend. Sally was far more fashion-conscious than both of the men combined. So he had spent the day being handed shirt after shirt, shoes after glove, hat after pair of ripped-up pants, until finally she "found his style".

He knew Chang would be harassing him the next day when Sally fawned over his subjection to her torture. Though he would be quick to remind him that it was Chang's turn next, and Sally would have far more "fun" dressing up her own boyfriend, who she knew she could whip into any pair of fishnet shirt or tight pair of leather pants.

Or the black thong she'd been going for when he stormed out in a rage of fury.

Chang wouldn't be able to say no to the thong.

Heero smiled at the months of humiliation he could bring down on his friend over that fact.

He watched as a fair of crazily-dressed punks went into a door across the street – the entrance he'd been hoping to find. He quickly crossed the street after them, watching for any danger as he approached the heavy steel door. He felt naked without his badge – but the gun at his side, tucked in the waist of his baggy pants, was certainly enough cover to make him feel protected. He'd argued against the leather pants Sally had suggested for that reason – he was in unfamiliar territory, strategically disadvantageous. He needed protection.

In the form of a SIG Sauer P228.

He managed his way into the club without much trouble – the stairwell, though dark, was safe, with only a single turn and a steep angle. An ambush would be unlikely.

The main room, however, was immediately a problem – a sea of writing bodies beneath flashing lights, immediately disorienting to his military-trained eyes that reflexively fought to adjust. The strobe lights blinded him, making his attempts to adjust his eyes an excruciating experience. The colored lights turned the room into another world – another disadvantage. He was a soldier, trained to spot a sniper in the dark from hundreds of feet away. He could see through a forest with amazing accuracy. And to suddenly have his entire vision – one of a soldier's most important senses – compromised was a factor he hadn't considered.

He made his way towards the bar, fighting the bodies that moved against him. He ran the known ingredients through his head once again – whiskey, blackberry juice, lemon, and absinthe. The thought of such a drink turned his stomach. He was a scotch man, Sitting down, the bartender, a busied man, older, in a Hawaiian shirt and dark glasses, was quick to take his order.

"What's your pleasure?" the man yelled, barely audible over the pounding pulse of the club.

"Yeah, I – " he tried, but was quickly drowned out by the roar. He tried again, louder, "You make anything with whiskey, absinthe, blackberry and lemon?" The man seemed taken aback by the request.

"Somethin' like that, by request. Only one guy ever orders it regularly. Where'd you hear about it?"

_Bingo._

"Just heard some guy talking about it, thought it sounded fun." The man released an explosive, throaty laugh.

"Yeah, kid. 'Fun'. That's one word for it." Heero watched him walk away, unsure about the man's last comment. He tried to take the moment to look around the club, but the drink was before him too quickly. He stared at the liquid – a deep blue, the milky-lemon juice still swirling in the glass. He looked up to see curious eyes on him, the bartender staring at him intently.

"Somethin' wrong with it?" He quickly shook his head, taking a strong gulp to try and avert the man's suspicion – instantly regretting it. The drink was strong and sour tasting, but left a creamy aftertaste that left his head spinning. The taste was so explosive he didn't even feel the usual burn of alcohol as he swallowed, leaving him to his sudden high.

"Fuck..." The man only laughed again.

"Hah, yeah. Other guy who orders it says the exact same thing." Heero took another sip as the bartender walked away, curious about the taste. It wasn't a drink he'd want regularly, but he could certainly appreciate an occasional one – he was instantly lost in the feelings that swam through his mind, as if he were being launched to the moon.

He attempted to drink it more slowly, fighting off the feeling as he tried to remember his mission, but the damage was done. He relented and began to sip gently while studying the room – he'd accomplished a lot by finding the drink, but maybe he could make even more progress by studying the local thugs.

His face began to wash with heat as he neared the end of the drink. It wasn't drunkenness – it was an uncomfortable, erotic high. He began to suspect that the drink contained some kind of drug, something he probably should have considered much earlier.

_Fuck._

Deciding to make a quick escape before his mind could succumb to any more of the drug's effects, he stood – only to find himself lost in vertigo, stuck in the feeling of rising, even as he stood erect. He stumbled slightly, straight into a slender body behind him. Arms wrapped around his waist, hot breath against his neck. His groin flooded with heat as a smooth voice rang in his ears.

"Come on, man. Wanna dance?"

Heero tried to reject the offer, but his body didn't listen. His arms, no longer under his control, wrapped around the firm body, pulling it tight as he moved into the crowd.

The body spun around, pressing hard against him. His body met the other's movements, grinding hard in a sex-driven dance – if it could even be called a dance. He was practically fucking someone through their clothes right there on the dance floor.

His cock screamed in pleasure at the sensation of being rocked and rubbed against the other's groin. The other body suddenly spun around and pressed against him, allowing Heero to feel the slight part in the other's cheeks through leather pants.

The body turned around again and claimed his lips – to which Heero violently met, taking control instantly as he fucked the other's face with his tongue. He could feel the darkness washing over his mind as he pulled back, both panting hard.

"Come on." His last moment of conscious thought was spent grabbing the offered hand and fighting the crowd – heading towards the door.

---

Heero groaned in pain as he woke, vision blurred in his hangover. He sat up, clawing at his throbbing brain, before a startled scream snapped him back to reality.

"Oh, God! Trowa! Trowa, come quick!"

He sat up, fighting to orient himself – figure out where he was, and in what state. A body above him moved, his half-hard cock sliding between ass cheeks as they moved. A heavy rope feel across his face as the body above him shifted. Eyes – the most beautiful cobalt he'd ever seen, the same color as the drink the night before, met his own. They stared at each other in a heated silence, before recognition crossed the cobalt orbs, and suddenly concern.

"Oh, fuck."

He suddenly recognized the voice, his stomach sinking as he began to recognize the room around the couch on which he lay – as he recognized the naked body on top of him.

"Maxwell!?"


	6. Chapter 6

Ok, so this is a really important chapter to the story. I really wasn't sure I'd make it this far, so thank you all SO MUCH for reading and making me feel confident enough to keep the story going this long!

I'm almost to where I never thought I'd make it! Also, I'm not as familiar with the Gundam Wing backstory as I probably should be, so while I was looking into it a little bit I managed to smash down one of the major walls that would have delayed any chapters beyond the next one. I won't tell you what it as, don't wanna ruin it for you, ya know? But let's just say that I managed to figure out a pivotal area of the plot that's been plaguing me since the very beginning.

Please review like you have been guys, because it's my readers that keep me writing, and this I've never had so much fun writing a story as I've had with this one.

Thank you SO MUCH! You guys are great :)

And yes, I know it's bad, but... I was kind of lax on proofreading just because I'm so excited that I actually finished it. Feel free to point out any mistakes to me, I'll fix them immediately.

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

"How could you do this, Duo!? Of all the stupid shit I've you've done, this is by far the worst!"

Heero buried his face in his hands, trying to drowned out the frantic screaming of the blond. Emotions ripped through him like wildfire – confusion, regret, fear, anger...

"Why are you mad at me!? He's the one who –"

"He's _not_ the one who almost bled to death only days ago! He's _not_ the one with the artery held together by stitches! He's _not_ the one who snuck out of the house against all reason to get drunk!"

"Well, then you should have stopped me." Heero glanced up when the expected reply fell silent. The pouting man, still as naked as himself – wrapped only in a blanket – looked away stubbornly from his friend, whose face looked as if it had been slapped by guilt and hurt. The Winner fumbled for words, before turning and leaving without a word. The taller man, who'd been standing there silently, finally spoke.

"Good one, Duo. Blame him for your stupidity."

"Yeah, Trowa. You're right. I should be blaming you, since you're the one who fucked him so senseless he was passed out enough for me to leave unnoticed." Heero was impressed by the man's patience – he himself would have taken such an immature jab much less gracefully.

"You hurt him, Duo. And you could have hurt yourself." The braided man next to him didn't respond, instead staring off blankly. "I'm going to go repair the damage you just did. I believe this is the part where you two share in awkward pillow talk, or whatever it is you two had planned for the awkward morning after." Heero kept his face buried as he left, taking deep breaths.

He'd slept with a witness. Or a suspect. Or whatever the hell Duo Maxwell was.

_He'd slept with another man!_

"God, I need a drink." He finally mumbled.

"Yeah, well, ya might wanna rethink that since you hold your booze like shit." He turned to glare.

"Shut the hell up!"

"Really? Cause you liked me moaning loud last night!"

"I said shut up!" A disgusted sneer crossed Maxwell's face.

"Yeah, you're just like the rest of the government pigs – fuck 'em when you want him, then throw 'em away the next morning." Heero began to respond, but suddenly found himself too tired to argue. He could just chalk his fatigue up to the hangover – but it wasn't that bad. And it didn't explain the pain in his chest when he saw hurt pooled in the eyes he still found himself easily lost in. As he stared into the cobalt sea of emotion, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" He took another moment to study the eyes before looking away, shaking his head.

"Nothing. Just your eyes."

"What about 'em?" He only shook his head again, leaving the other man to stare at him in confusion. A rough-looking blond finally returned, his lover close behind. His cheeks were puffy and red – he'd been crying; hard it seemed. He carried with him two glasses.

"Here you go, detective." His voice was raw and tired, but still attempted the usual energy he'd seen before. "I made you some coffee. I left it black. You seem the type to like it black. I can get you cream and sugar if you'd like, though." Unsure, he took the offered drink.

"Yeah... I like it black. Thanks."

"Q-man, you know I hate black! Couldn't you 'ave –"

"Shut your mouth, Duo! You'll drink it like I give it to you!" Heero's head shot up at the venom in the once-gentle voice. Even the man next to him was stunned, mouth open slightly.

"Quat..."

"Detective, would you like some breakfast? Or a shower? Our home is yours."

"Since when!?"

"Since you brought him home and slept him with him!" Heero could see the man next to him begin to unravel at the treatment, the cobalt of his eyes draining of their usual vibrancy into a pale, sad stare.

"Come on, Duo. I need to change your bandages and check your wound." He didn't argue with the taller man, only bowed his head and stood, limply clinging to the blanket around his waist. More pain tugged at his chest as he watched him walk away, his form now noticeably weakened.

"So is there anything I can get you?" He met the blond's eyes, immediately recognizing his struggle to maintain his composure and hospitality, even in the face of so much hurt.

He thought for a moment, and nodded.

"Yeah, a shower sounds nice." His voice, too, was tired and raw. His muscles ached, and he felt dirty all over.

"Right through the the door next to the bedroom. I'll go ahead and start making breakfast. There's a clean towel in the cabinet above the toilet, I'm sorry to say that we're low on other toiletries." Heero waved a hand dismissively, heading for the bathroom.

He froze as the door closed behind him, watching as a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered to life. The wallpaper, dirty and grungy, peeled in various places – parts of the wall completely exposed where some had torn. The sink looked as if it had been scrubbed raw – yet was still visibly stained by age and dirt. In fact, the sink and shower shared the same worn look – an obviously exhaustive effort to have been cleaned, but permanently stained.

A knock at the door behind him brought him back to reality, and the blond's tired voice came muffled through the tired wood.

"Your clothes are on the couch when you're done."

He stepped further into the tiny room, already reaching the shower after only a few steps. He turned the tarnished knobs, expecting the shock of cold water – but the frigid ice that slammed against his skin sent him reeling back out of the shower, stunned.

Never in his life had he ever felt water that cold! He'd trained in cold-water rescue, and that had been more comfortable than the glacial water that had just attacked him! Shivers ran through his muscles as he tried again, hoping that water had warmed.

He tested it with his hand.

_Only slightly._

More prepared this time, he stepped underneath the unsteady spray.

Once again, his mind drifted to the events of the night before – what he could remember of it. And what he remembered was that he... enjoyed it? Sure, he'd been drunk. But it was more than that. There was something in those eyes whenever he looked into them, something that pulled him in and stole every thought from his mind.

And the sex had been fantastic – a realization that shocked him more than scared him. He'd never cared much for sexual urges, he'd been far too busy in life. The human libido was undiscerning, as long as it was relieved. Sex was nothing more than a human urge – an urge that needed to be dealt with in a convenient and efficient manner. The sex he'd had the night before, while certainly not convenient, had left him far more sated than he could ever remember his own hand being able to achieve.

He grunted as the water suddenly jumped in temperature, burning at his skin. He ground his teeth in pain, almost stepping out right before it cooled back down to a manageable temperature.

Once again, his mind was pulled back to where he was – the run-down bathroom of a trashy home in the ghetto, washing up from a night of getting drugged and nailing a suspect, an annoying, _male_, suspect, up the ass. He quickly dipped his head under the spray, pulling back and shaking the water from his hair.

He stepped out of the shower, turning the handles and grabbing for cabinet the blond had mentioned. The towels folded towels, some with obvious stains deep in their fabric, were frayed and worn. He grabbed the one that seemed _least_ tattered, wrapping it around his waist and heading out into the living room where his clothes were folded neatly on the couch. Alone, he quickly ran the towel over his legs and groin, just enough to pull his boxers on.

"Detective, breakfast is ready if you'd like some."

Heero ran the towel through his hair as he headed for the kitchen, droplets still clinging to his chest.

---

"God, Trowa... how'd I fuck up so bad?"

Trowa remained silent, caught between his sympathy and his anger.

"I don't know, Duo. You've done some stupid stuff before, but getting fucked by the enemy? Literally? That's new even for you."

He pulled the bandage tightly, earning a grunt of pain. He sighed.

"Duo, you hurt him. You compromised our safety, you risked your health, and you _hurt him _by doing it! Damnit, Duo! I don't even know if I can get us out of this..." Duo stared at the floor.

"So what if I turned myself in?" Trowa grabbed Duo harshly by the shirt, stopping himself just short of punching him. After a deep breath, he let the shocked man go.

"Duo, are you just trying to be stupid?"

"But it would keep you and Quatre safe!"

"Yeah! And send Quatre into hysterics! He worried about you enough to come out to the cops when all they did was _arrest_ you, what do you think he'd do if you actually were at risk of being convicted!?" The two became silent, unsure of what to say.

"Maybe they don't know anything. I mean, when I get drunk I get horny. It's not like I run my mouth or anything, right?"

"No, but now he can connect you to Howard and the club. We got too much of our stuff from there. It's a matter of time before they stumble onto something down there."

"Shit! Ho –"

"He can handle himself. He covered up after himself good enough. We need to worry about ourselves right now. I'll see about getting us moved out of the house as soon as we get the detective out of here." Duo looked up, shock and guilt across his face.

"Trowa, you saved up for months to get this place! I won't let you! God, Tro, what have I done!?" He moved fast to catch Duo as he finally shattered, emotions flooding out of him as he sobbed into his chest.

"I just needed to run away, ya know!? I didn't mean for all this to happen!" Trowa cradled him gently, trying to calm him.

"Shhh, I know. And Quatre knows. He just needs time, Duo. All of this will work out in time."

"B-but what about –"

"Don't worry about it. I'll work it all out, Duo. Just keep yourself safe from now, alright?" His best friend nodded against him, falling deeper once again as he wracked with another sob.

---

Heero picked idly at his food – burnt at one side and undercooked on the other.

"I'm really sorry. The stove acted up again, I tried to salvage it as best I could." Heero only nodded in understanding, fighting hard but unable to stop himself as the question that had been tugging at his mind tumbled out of his mouth.

"Why do you put up with it?" The blond turned around, eyebrows furrowed.

"The stove?"

"No... nevermind. I shouldn't have asked. I apologize, Mr. Winner." The other shook his head.

"No, no – it's perfectly fine. And please, call me Quatre. You mean put up with broken dishes and finicky oven? The dirty glass, crumbling walls, leaky ceiling, and tattered carpet?" Heero nodded. "When I could be living in a five star hotel being waited on hand on foot?" Heero nodded again, to which the Winner chuckled, moving to pour a cup of tea and sit across the table.

"Well, I've always had that. I always had people fawning over my attention, bending over backwards to see that I was taken care of. And then I met Trowa – he did the same thing, but he did it in his own way. He didn't do it because of who I was the son of or how much money I had, he did it because for _me_, as a person. He did it because he loved me. I'd never had that before. So, yes, it was an adjustment to move in with him, to go from having everything to having nothing. But nothing was all Trowa had – all he's ever had. And he was willing to give me every bit of his nothing, if that makes any sense."

"It does."

"But Trowa wants to succeed on his own, which I find noble. He wants to make it without anyone's help, and I want to be there behind him – supporting him. I don't want to "make" him, that's not what he wants. He wants to do it himself, and I'll stand behind him for as long as it takes to accomplish that. Which, I hate to say, might take a while given our society – if it's possible at all."

"The government provides – "

"That's the problem, detective. The government _provides_. Or, the better way to put it, the government _allows_ people their merit. As long as you're willing to bend to its will and be the obedient, exemplary citizen it expects you to be, then yes – you can be anything you want. But Allah have mercy on the man who wants to succeed by his own volition."

"I succeeded quite well by my own volition."

"By working for the government." The reflex to respond choked in his throat – he had nothing to say. It was true. His success came through his work for and obedience to the government.

"But if the government provides it, then what's the problem?" A tired look filled Quatre's eyes.

"Mr. Yuy, it's about pride. Pride in being able to stand on your own two feet. That's all Trowa wants."

"And Maxwell?"

"Duo's had a hard life. He learned young a very unique definition to the phrase 'on one's own feet'. His definition involves the bare minimum to survive, scrounging the trash for food and finding a building's overhang that shelters him from the rain to sleep beneath. Success to him is surviving one day and waking up the next – the kind of success you, I, or even Trowa could ever imagine is merely a dream to him, a fantasy that parents tell their children of to help them sleep at night. Duo's story is sad, a perfect example of the government's every failure, and its maintained ignorance to them. I guess that's why I want so much to help him. He's my friend, and I love him deeply. I suppose it's why I'm so overprotective – because I know that if he's close to me, he hasn't slipped back into the way his life used to be."

"And yet he runs out of the house with a serious wound and gets drunk in a club." A sad smile crossed the face across from him.

"It's how he lives – life isn't a guarantee to Duo, it never has been. It isn't to anyone, but Duo grew up facing that truth every day, to that the point that it's now become an ingrained reality. So he lives life on the edge – because it's on the edge where he can only truly know he's living. It's only when he's facing death that he knows he's not dead. And it only gets worse when he feels trapped, such as by being confined to the couch with a wound. Being trapped is when he feels death is closest, so he runs – usually to drugs or alcohol. He runs to where he feels safe, which is as close to the edge of life as possible. It's his safety blanket. I can't blame him for it, I can only pray that each time he approaches the cliff he manages to keep from falling off, and enjoy every moment that I have him in my life."

Heero nodded, silent. Duo reminded him of himself, to an extent – abused by life, an orphan raised by a man on the underside of the law. But at least the man had beaten into him the ability to survive, a painful, but certainly educational, process – to have to learn everything he had learned on his own? He suddenly felt as if he had a much deeper understanding of the loud-mouthed man.

"What was his childhood like?" An unsure look fell across the blond's face.

"It's not my place to say. You'll need to ask Duo if you're so interested." Heero snorted.

"Maxwell wouldn't tell me the time of day, yet alone his life story."

"Because you aren't being sincere. You're the law – an entity Duo has learned to distrust in all shapes and forms. And you arrested him. The only questions you've ever asked him were to incriminate him or humiliate him – the way he sees it, answering your questions will only be shooting himself in the foot. But if he thinks that you're being sincere in your intentions, Duo will talk to you. He's very kind at heart."

Heero nodded. He began to think back to his own childhood – and Odin Lowe, the man who raised him. All of the things he'd taught him about the world, and, unlike yesterday, none of them seemed to hold true anymore. His mind slightly spun as his very life felt numb. Just yesterday he had been investigating a crime against the government he loved, the government he believed in. And suddenly here he sat, in the existence he'd been so sure his government had managed to eradicate from the world – adequate food, shelter, and drink for those in need. And yet, living in a world where none of those were provided, was one of the richest men in the world.

He looked at Quatre Winner – truly a wise man, everything he'd heard and more. What he'd said shook his very confidence in what he believed in like an earthquake, brought everything he thought he knew crashing against his morals and beliefs. Quatre stood, his cup of tea empty.

"Would you like anything? More coffee or food?" His cup of coffee was still half-full, and he had suddenly lost his appetite.

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

The door behind him opened, and a very tired-looking Duo Maxwell emerged, leaning heavily against Trowa behind him.

---

The detective sat half-dressed at the table, Quatre busy pouring more tea. Trowa analyzed the scene carefully – the silent, contemplative look across the man's face. He searched for any sign of trouble in his features; any sign of suspicion or thought that might be a danger.

He'd promised Duo the impossible – he had no clue what would happen, no clue if it were possible for the situation to end any way but badly. He just didn't know.

But Duo needed the stability beneath him – he'd needed to hear that it would be alright.

Quatre seemed to be in a better mood, moving to help him sit Duo at the table. Unexpectedly, Quatre took all of Duo's weight, managing him into the chair by himself.

"Would you like some breakfast, Duo?" Trowa was suddenly uneasy – just moments before, Quatre had been furious with the man. And yet, after leaving him alone with the detective, fully confident that Quatre would know better than to say anything potentially revealing, he seemed fine again. He felt guilt tugging at his heart for ever thinking that Quatre would say something to harm them, but he coudln't shake the feeling that he'd missed something very important.

He looked over to the detective again, who had yet to move. The towel hung limply on his shoulders, his features revealing a mind deep in thought.

Trowa finally met Quatre's eyes – and his mind was put oddly at ease.

"Trowa? Are you going to sit and have breakfast?" He nodded, moving to the chair, still watching Quatre closely. Duo picked weakly at the food, clearly still upset. As Quatre stood next to Trowa, setting his plate in front of him, the detective's voice growled into the silence of the room, setting his every reflex on edge.

"Maxwell, I'd like to talk to you in private."

Duo looked up, fear and confusion painted across his face. Trowa immediately began to protest, but Quatre's hand tightened on his shoulder. He looked up, meeting the blue, reassuring eyes – the gentle nod bouncing blond hair.

"Duo, since you don't seem hungry, why don't you go talk to the detective while you see him out?" Again, Trowa watched as Quatre's hand rest gently on Duo's shoulder, just as it had his own, urging him gently. Still unsure, Duo stood.

Trowa watched as Duo followed Heero out the kitchen into the living room, his nerves tightened to the point of breaking.

"Quatre, what's going –"

"It's alright, Trowa. Duo will be fine." Confidence sparkled in Quatre's eyes, the same eyes that had just earlier been tired and worn. Against his better judgment, he relaxed, pushing back his own concern in favor of his faith in his lover – a faith that had yet to go unwarranted.


	7. Chapter 7

Ok, so I've been really nervous about getting to this chapter. I'm not at all confident about it. I mean, if you guys say it's good, then I'll have made it over probably the first major hump as far as the plot is concerned.

I'd really appreciate reviews letting me know what you think. You guys have been really good about it before, but this is the one, if no other, that I'd like a review for. Thanks in advance, hope you enjoy!

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

Duo stood awkwardly behind him as Heero pulled on his pants, thinking of ways to go about beginning a conversation. Turning around, the glinting of metal caught his eye – a golden cross hung around the man's neck.

"You're religious?" Nervous eyes looked up, hardening instantly.

"Maybe." He said stubbornly, posture instantly straightening in self-defense. Heero sighed, not surprised at having evoked a defensive reaction. He sat on the couch, gripping his shirt in his hands.

"What d'you want, anyways? Just get out." He could hear the street accent he hadn't heard all morning begin to slip through, probably another defense. As he thought back, it had been heaviest when they were interrogating him, and slightly less thick when they had just been asking him questions, but his voice had no hint of the distinct twang when he'd been talking to Quatre and Trowa earlier. Heero guessed that it was an act, just like the way he postured himself to make his body look bigger and more intimidating – an act he'd learned growing up on the streets, one that would keep him safe. He quickly cataloged the subconscious defense mechanisms.

Heero tried to stayed calm, raising his eyes to look at the cobalt he'd become fascinated with. The tension in the other's stance drained slightly, and Heero knew he must have caught him off guard by surprising him with a gentle look where he'd expected harshness. He finally shrugged.

"Me and Quatre were talking, and I got interested. He told me to ask you."

"So he's 'Quatre' now?" Again, the other became defensive, and Heero understood – his security had been compromised, his best friend had talked about him to who he considered a dangerous threat. Heero maintained his calm – it had already worked once, it was possible that the strategy would work again. Sure enough, Duo finally fell onto the couch heavily, looking across the room in an obvious attempt to ignore him. Heero let the silence slip between them, trying to establish a rhythm of calmness in communication.

"So I take it you were an orphan." Duo remained stubborn, gaze fixed on the opposite wall. Heero finally began to realize that he would need to build a basic trust, just like he would with any kind of uncooperative suspect – he would need to expose himself to establish something mutual between them.

"I was an orphan, too." He watched as the defense began to instantly show signs of weakness – the knuckles, gripped tight on the shirt's sleeve, loosened slightly. Heero sighed in relief, knowing that he'd been lucky on his first try with a well-placed guess.

"Yeah?" Heero nodded, knowing Duo was watching him from the corner of his eye.

"I don't remember how my parents died. All I remember was being raised by a man – Odin Lowe." Again, he let the silence cultivate the conversation's mood. Pressing too much would only make him defensive again, though he knew he ran the risk of allowing the silence kill the conversation completely. Luckily, Duo began to respond to his efforts.

"I don't remember, either. I grew up on the streets. I gotten taken in once..." Heero began to become uneasy as he watched his efforts slip through his fingers – Duo's eyes became sad and pained. He quickly pushed to salvage what ground he had gained, gambling all he had earned.

"Look, I just want to learn about you. I'm sorry about before – about the arrest and last night. But that doesn't have anything to do with right now. I just want to get to know you better." The look of pain was gone, but the tension in his muscles was returning. "So how about this – you ask me a question, and I ask you one. And we go from there?" At first, Duo was silent, but he finally loosened completely, uncrossing his arms and turning to better face Heero with a tired sigh.

"Why do you care?"

"Maxwell, I –"

"No, that's my question. I get to ask you a question, you get to ask me one. So I'm asking my question – why do you care?" Heero thought for a moment, recognizing the genius in Duo's strategy – the question was both revealing about Heero and aided in Duo's defense. He knew it was important to answer in an acceptable way.

"Because this morning I've realized that everything I thought I knew was a lie. Maybe if I get to know you better, I'll be able to tell gauge just how badly I was fooled." Duo chewed on this, and finally looked at him.

"'It's your turn." Heero sighed in relief, smiling slightly.

"Are you religious?" Duo looked at him, surprised that he would repeat the same question from before. Heero knew that it was a good gesture to offer – starting with a question that was productive, yet proved his genuine intentions. He held Quatre's advice dear, now knowing that honest intentions would get him much further with Duo Maxwell than any kind of logic or trick.

"Yeah. I am." Heero felt bittersweet as he realized that Duo would continue to be difficult. He would most likely have to answer three questions for every single piece of information he would learn about the braided man. "What do you think is a lie?"

"In what way?"

"Ya didn't answer my question, you don't get to ask another one yet." Heero smiled at the playful twinkle in the eyes.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, do you want to know what I consider a lie in general? Or what did I mean about being lied to?"

"The second one." Again, Heero was careful to think about his answer.

"Before this morning, I thought that the government provided for anyone who wanted to succeed." Duo let out a snorted laugh, but didn't speak, letting him continue. "But now, seeing Quatre living like this... I'm starting to realize maybe I was wrong. He convinced me that maybe it's not as genuine of a system as I thought. Which is, again, why I want to learn about you. He didn't tell me much, but from what I gathered you've had a hard life. Mine was too. But apparently not as bad. I thought the government helped people like you – so if I can learn about you, I can see how badly it's failed. I can see how badly I was wrong..." Duo stared at him with a certain emptiness.

"Why are you religious?" Duo's blinked slightly, working the emptiness out of his gaze. Heero watched as the sadness returned, and he began to regret asking the question. However, it was answered before he could offer another in its place.

"The only place that would take me in was Maxwell Church. Father Maxwell and Sister Helen raised me. I was a child straight from hell," he said with a laugh, "but they would still try to help me. I guess a little rubbed off on me." Heero's stomach sank as the question blurted out, unable to catch himself.

"Maxwell Church? Like the fire?" Pain shot across Duo's face, but he nodded.

"Yeah. After it happened, I swore I'd try to live my life like they wanted me to. I swore I wouldn't lie. I'm not the best Christian, but I still try. But the one place I refuse to fail is lying – it was my last promise to Sister Helen. And I won't let her down." This time, the silence was uncomfortable from the beginning. Duo's looked up, eyes slightly misted.

"Who's turn 's it?"

"Yours."

"What's your favorite color?" Heero watched him, not expecting such a frivolous question. When Duo continued to look at him expecting an answer, he felt that he couldn't help himself. He smiled.

"Cobalt." Duo watched him, studying him, and finally chuckled slightly. But as much as Heero enjoyed the happiness in eyes, he knew that he might not get a chance to ask questions such as this again, so he frowned and continued. "I always heard that everyone died in the fire. How did you escape?" He wasn't surprised when the spark of happiness instantly extinguished.

"It was back during the rebellion. Some local thugs that were capitalizing on the chaos had holed up in the church. They were beating the shit out of Father Maxwell because he wouldn't help. Finally, when I thought they were gonna kill him, I offered to try and get them weapons if they'd stop. So I went out and tried to steal some, ya know – from the military. And while I was gone..." He took a deep breath, a tear finally rolling down his cheek. Heero was quick to raise a hand, wiping it away. He kept his hand their, cupping the cheek reassuringly. When surprised eyes met his, he urged him on gently.

"While I was gone, the military showed up. Instead of trying to ferret them out, they just figured..." He choked on a sob, his voice beginning to strain in emotion. "They just figured they'd burn it down, ya know? So when I got back, they were still going at it with flamethrowers. There was... there was this hole I used to get out through, drove Sister Helen insane when I'd use it to go out at night. So I snuck back in and found 'em all. They were... they were just... all..." He finally broke down, and Heero held him close, the heat of tears and breath searing the bare skin of his chest.

"Shhh... shhh... it's ok..." The man in his arms shook with a sarcastic laugh, pulling away.

"Yeah, sure." Heero was slightly confused, unsure of what he had done wrong. He decided to offer up information instead of waiting for a question.

"Odin Lowe, the man who raised me, was killed during the war." Duo looked up, apparently wary that he would offer information like that. Heero nodded. "He was an assassin for the government. He taught me everything I know about survival and being a soldier."

"How'd it happen?" Heero took a deep breath, more for air than as an emotional release. He'd long been numb to what he felt about what had happened.

"He was tricked by one of the rebellion's leaders. He was... I'm not sure how to put it. He'd been trained by the military, but he _technically_ operated freelance. He was more of a gun-for-hire than soldier, though it was usually the military that hired him. But it wasn't that unusual when he was approached by a rebellion leader for a job. So when he showed up, the guy shot him." Duo seemed shocked, either by what he had been told or by the casual nature that Heero had described it in. Heero tried to placate him by smiling with a shrug.

"It's fine. I've gotten over it." Duo seemed to be lost in thought, eyes furrowed in concentration, so Heero took the chance to dig his cell phone out of his pocket and check the time. When he looked at the front, he realized he was receiving a call.

"Yuy." Duo looked up, watching him as he talked into the phone.

"Damn it, Yuy! Where _are_ you!?"

"Chang?"

"Khushrenada's throwing around _all kinds _of shit that we're not being hands-on enough! Did something happen last night?" Heero looked over at Duo, who was busy picking at the frayed end of his sleeve.

"Yeah, but I'm fine. Listen, can I just meet you later for a drink? I need you to handle it for today."

"Are you alright?" Chang's voice was laced with worry, and rightly so. Heero knew that for himself to not show up for work would be uncharted waters – he might as well have been shot. In the past, it had taken nothing less than a bullet, and sometimes not even that, to keep him from his job.

"I'm fine, Chang. I'll tell you about it later. How about our regular place at two?"

"Yeah, sure. You promise you're ok?"

"Yes! I'm fine, Chang! What, do you want me to use the duress word?" He joked, subtly reminding Chang that the two had an adequate system established to prevent him from being in serious danger without his partner knowing.

"Just be there at two and tell me what happened."

"All right, I'll see you later." Duo looked up as he snapped his phone shut.

"Who's that?"

"Chang, my partner. I'm sure you remember him." Duo was smiling as he thought back, nodding.

"'m sure he 'members me too." The accent was beginning to slip through again, though far more comfortable than he'd ever seen. He took the time to enjoy the sight of Duo smiling slightly, eyes glazed with mischief.

"What'd he want?"

"Just making sure I'm alright. They consider it a natural disaster if I don't show up." The gleam faded from his eyes, though he was physically unchanged.

"You mean the investigation?" Heero nodded. This time, Duo's smiled dropped, and he began to once again play with the frayed sleeve.

"So that's all this's been."

"What?"

"Last night, and just now. You were just tryin' to soften me up so you could catch me on somethin'! Damn you, Yuy! Damn y –"

"Duo, it's nothing like that!" He seemed to calm down. "It's nothing like that. It's like I told you – this has all been eye-opening for me. I was wrong about so much. I was wrong about you. And I'm sorry."

"So last night was...?" Heero frowned as he remembered it all – the evidence he'd have to turn over. The evidence that linked Duo to a bar where a drink used as the accelerant in the incendiary bomb from the first attack was made. He looked deep into the cobalt eyes looking at him expectantly – looking at him to tell him that he wasn't something more than a mistake. It was a feeling he remembered well from his childhood, and if Duo was anything like him – a feeling he was far too familiar with. He wasn't at all confident as he began to talk.

"Last night was an undercover infiltration of where we suspected the accelerant used in the firebomb might have come from." As Duo's eyes began to watch him warily, he knew he was hitting far too close to home, but he couldn't stop himself. "Apparently the bartender makes a highly specialized order. The lab managed to trace some of the ingredients, and I ordered it." Another sarcastic laugh, almost exactly the same as when they'd been talking about the church fire.

"Which is why you were so ready to go."

"What do you mean?" Heero couldn't figure out Duo's face – laced with both bitterness and pain.

"Howie makes it 'specially for me, throws in some stuff that'd get a celibate monk humpin' your leg in minutes." Heero's stomach wrenched.

"He makes it for you." His entire world span at the implications as Duo nodded firmly.

"Y'gonna take me in now?" Heero looked at his cocky smile, but instead found his vision settling on the fear dancing beneath the deep blue in his eyes. Heero thought hard, his mind racing, until finally everything stopped. His mind, much like a powerful computer, produced the answer to his question after thousands upon thousands of complex equations. And, confusing even to himself, what was a question as simple as two plus two produced the answer –

"No."

"Why?" Heero stood, finally pulling on the shirt he'd worn the night before. He knew the answer.

"Duo, don't go anywhere. I want to see you again. But right now I need to head out and meet Chang before he changes his mind and sends the army out looking for me." He said with a smile. He began to walk towards the door, Duo close behind.

"Yuy, fuckin' tell me right now why you ain't 'restin' me! Yuy! Damn it, Yuy!" Heero turned around, pulling him into a searing kiss. He sucked on the lip, painting it with his tongue. When Duo's tongue met his, they tangled furiously, battling for dominance. And just as Heero won, Duo submitting with a sigh, he pulled away, leaving the braided man begging for more with a whine.

"Please, Duo. Promise me you won't go anywhere." When he received the dazed nod of affirmation he wanted, he let him go, turning to walk out the door.

---

Heero took another sip of his bourbon as he waited. A hand slammed the counter next to him, and he turned calmly to find a furious Wufei Chang staring at him with a blazing fire in his eyes. He only looked at him tiredly, turning back to his drink.

"What happened, Yuy? What's so fuckin' important that you decide you can just dump an entire federal investigation in my lap!?"

"I slept with Maxwell." The implication didn't sink in immediately – it would take a moment for Chang to wrap his mind around the concept. He waited patiently.

"Who's Maxwell?"

"Duo Maxwell. Your favorite terrorist suspect, Duo 'fuck your whore of a mother' Maxwell." He could seem Chang's mind bending around the idea, trying the swallow the impossibly large bite. He finally sat down weakly, mind still racing for the answer he already had.

"I have a scotch on the way for you."

"What do you mean 'slept' with him?"

"Nailed his ass like a horny rabbit."

"How? Why? Damn, Yuy..."

"Yeah..." Heero took a long swig of bourbon, reveling in the way it burned his throat on the way down.

"I mean... damn, Yuy. I knew you weren't all that interested in women, but..."

"I'm not gay, Chang. It's not 'men'. It's just Maxwell. And even then, I was drunk, but we talked Chang..."

"Talked?"

"God, Chang. I fucked up. I mean, I really fucked up in life." He downed the rest of his glass, motioning for another as the bartender arrived with Chang's scotch.

"In what way?"

"Everything Odin taught me, I've thrown away. Everything he taught me in life."

"You use it every day." Heero sighed tiredly, and Chang understood. He settled in, focusing intently on what Heero had to say. Chang was a man of his own life – hard childhood, rife with struggle and hardship. He'd seen his entire clan massacred, his most important of loyalties wiped out right before his eyes. Chang was a man who shared Heero's determination to enforce the moral and ethical, which is why he felt no fear in telling him his doubts about everything they both believed in. Chang would _want_ to know what he'd discovered – that they were wrong. About everything.

"Odin could have cared less if I'd done nothing right, except for one thing. To live by my emotions... Chang, you didn't hear Winner talking this morning."

"Winner?" He nodded, taking another sip.

"We both fucked up. I mean, he finally opened my eyes – got me to realize that the government only helps the ones who let it rape them in the ass. Chang, I spent my entire life believing that the government provided for those who wanted to succeed."

"As did I."

"But Winner's right – people who want to succeed are the ones we've been arresting and beating. People who want to succeed are the poor people in the slums we just brush off as scum. It's the ones who are ready to bend over and take it up the ass that get the special treatment. It's the ones with their hands open ready for the handouts that make it anywhere in this world. The ones who have any sense of pride or honor are the ones who don't get half a chance in this world! God, Chang. I fucked up big time."

Chang stared into his scotch in silence.

"Maybe." Heero took another long sip, knowing that it was quickly sinking in that both of them, driven by their shared sense of justice, had been wrong.

"We got lied to, Chang. We _helped_ it get that way!"

"How did we –"

"He said, all the time – 'you never know when some idiot will come along and change the world'. Then I go and try to enforce the moral will of others. I was just a fucking puppet, Chang, disillusioned by lies and ideals that sounded too good to be true. I just let 'em dangle me like a Goddamn puppet..." He took another long sip, this time beginning to feel the world turn as the alcohol saturated his mind.

"Heero, slow down." He shook his head, the world not stopping quite as fast as it probably should have, blurring slightly.

"You didn't see it, Chang. You didn't seem him talking about his life."

"Who?"

"Duo. He was in the Maxwell Church. He said government soldiers set fire to it just to burn some rebels."

"Yuy, I'm sure he could have been mistaken."

"No, Chang! He's right! We do it all the fuckin' time! You and me! If the government says they're scum, if the government says they're worthless, then they just hand us the fucking gun and tell us to be done with them!" Wufei stayed silent, again contemplating the implications. Heero sat in silence as Chang took a phone call. He tuned the conversation out, listening instead to the roaring in his ears as he thought back to everything his mentor had taught him – systematically going through the categorized ideals and checking them against the way he lived his life, slipping further and further into anger at himself as, one by one, they failed to check out.

Wufei shook his arm, gaining his attention. His face was hardened. Heero's gut turned.

"Yuy, there was another attack – multiple attacks. It was a coordinated attack on multiple military bases."

"God..."

"So that was Khushrenada. He said the military is handling it now, and he's personally overseeing the investigation."

"Fuckin' asshole, doesn't trust us enough to run an investigation." Chang snorted.

"He only put us in charge because it was politically beneath him. Now that he can gain some recognition, he's jumping all over this. I'm beginning to think you might be right. I've known he had a dishonorable side, but you didn't see him today. He all over my ass trying to find a reason to take over." Chang took another sip of his scotch Suddenly, Heero's head shut up, his glass of bourbon knocking over as he jerked violently.

"Duo!"

"What?"

"They'll find out about Duo! We wrote about him in our reports! They'll fuckin' kill him!"

"Yuy, he was just a suspect, they won't –"

"It's the military, Chang! They'll smash his skull in until he confesses just to save his own life!" Heero knew what he was truly worried about – the drink, the bomb. He hadn't written about it, and he wouldn't tell Chang – not yet, not with the death of his men still fresh on his mind. Maybe no one else in the investigation knew, but Heero knew that Duo was connected in some way. And, yes, the chances were slim that they would find anything to incriminate him with so fast. Still, Heero knew how they interrogated suspects – he'd interrogated them himself. He knew their tactics. And Duo, of all people, was the most likely type of personality to be killed by his own stubborness when they held his head in a tub of water to get him to answer questions.

"I've gotta –" He tried to stand, almost falling off of his stool, the bourbon numbing his muscles. "I gotta get to him."

"Heero, you're drunk."

"I'll be fine. In a minute. I've got to get to Duo before the military does."

His feet beneath him, he started towards the door of the bar – until Chang's grabbed his arm.

"Chang –"

"Yuy, before you go, I want you to know this... you're the most honorable man I know I've seen you stare into the face of death with a confidence in the moral of your spirit that I can only ever hope to achieve. You're my best friend, Heero, and a man I would trust my life with. So whatever you decide... I'll support you. If you ever need help – come to me. Please. It would be my honor to stand by you." Heero stared into his eyes, fully aware that he could say nothing to change his friend's mind, he smiled.

"I might have fucked up before, but I'm maybe it's not too late to change. I don't know if it's right or not, but my emotions are telling me to get him the hell out of there, and it's time I started living by them. Thank you, Wufei. For everything." Chang nodded reassuringly.

"Now go get Maxwell before he soldiers find him. With his big mouth you'd better have him well out of the city by the time they get there."

---

He pounded on the door, out of breath from his run – he'd needed to park his car at least two blocks from the house so that neighbors wouldn't know he'd been there. He knew investigative procedures well. He also knew that he had to be quiet. If he yelled, though every urge within him begged to call out for Duo, to let him know who it was, it would be a scene that the neighbors might remember.

After pounding frantically, he finally decided to pick the lock, remembering to have stocked his new set of clothes, having been too busy to change, with his standard equipment.

Once through the metal door, he found the wooden door unlocked. The room was dark as he stepped in, only the light of the street from the door behind him giving him any sight.

Suddenly, he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel rest against his temple. He looked up, meeting eyes of hardened, icy cobalt.

"Duo..."


	8. Chapter 8

So I just finished writing this and I'm EXHAUSTED after a long first day back to classes and... ya know, being sedated by sleeping meds. I was fighting exhaustion off at the second half of this chapter, so let me know if something doesn't make sense. I'd go back and read it, but I'm so tired I'm not sure I'd notice even if something was incredibly messed up.

Oh -- and thank you SO much for the reviews on the last chapter :)

It was a such a crucial turning point to the story and this is my first work at this level, so I was really worried I'd mess it up and that it would jack up the story beyond fixation. You guys made me feel really confident about it. I can't even begin to express how thankful I am for you guys, and how crucial you are to the writing of this story. If you guys weren't here, I wouldn't be writing. And I'm really loving this story, too, so I don't want that.

So, again, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's kind of sad because I can really see a little bit of Henry James flavoring in this chapter, since that's who we discussed in class today. And I hate Henry James, other than his love of dashes (my English teacher got me hooked on dashes). So if something doesn't make sense, because nothing Henry James writes ever does and I'm worried that his influence on me might have been negative, just let me know. I'll blame him as I fix it :)

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

"Heero?" The gun against his temple dropped quickly, a thin shoulder rubbing against him before light flooded the room, burning his eyes. "Damn it, Heero! Why ya gotta go and scare me like that? I thought you were a burglar or somethin' –" Heero was quick to recover.

"Duo, we need to get you out of here." He shut the door behind him, moving quickly to begin keying into his inner investigator, though stopping just short of cleaning up the couch of its beddings.

"Damn it!"

"What's wrong?" Heero shook his head.

"I can't touch anything. They'll dust every inch of this place." Trowa and Quatre emerged from their bedroom, Trowa much more awake than the still-sleepy blond at his side.

"Yuy?"

"Trowa, go back in and pack some bags. You have to leave. Make sure to pack thoroughly, as many pairs of everything as you can, but do it neatly! Packing messily is a dead giveaway that you left in a rush. We need to make it look like you left days ago." Trowa, though obviously confused, turned and obeyed the instructions instantly, though Duo was far more resistant.

"Slow down, 'Ro. Who's coming? And why are we packing?"

"Because you have to leave! The military took over the case, and I can't let them get their hands on you. I know how they interrogate people, Duo, and I'm not about to let them touch you." Quatre was quick to offer a suggestion, his usual grace-under-fire diplomacy shining through.

"Heero, would it be wise to call my bodyguard and have him meet us somewhere?"

"Don't use the phone, they'll check your phone calls."

"I have a cell phone under real name." Heero quickly nodded.

"Good, your identity isn't in any of the reports, so it's probably safe for you guys to hide somewhere under the Winner protection. We just have to get you there without leaving any footprints." Quatre walked quickly back to the bedroom while Heero moved to the kitchen, Duo close in tow.

"Heero, you need to slow down, I'm sure –"

"No, Duo! We have to hurry! You were our main suspect, and the second they start digging into the report they'll have a warrant for your arrest. Quatre can't help you from the military, Duo. They operate by a completely different system." He grabbed a pair of oven mitts, unplugging everything he could find, making sure the utilities appeared to have been readied for a long trip.

"Go in the living room and start unplugging things." Duo obeyed silently, hesitating in obvious uncertainty.

As Heero emerged from the kitchen, Trowa carried two large suitcases out of the bedroom, Quatre behind him still talking into the cell phone. Quatre threw a decent sized bag to Duo, who caught it with a slight catch in his arm.

"I made sure it's all in there, Duo. We packed more clothes than you usually take. They're in Quatre's suitcase."

"Thanks Tro'" Heero eyed thick, canvas bag curiously. Duo bared his teeth in a cheeky grin.

"Guy's gotta be prepared, 'Ro. That's what they taught you boy scouts, right?" Heero snorted at the idea of being a boy scout, though he supposed his survival skills did resemble scout training. But he highly doubted scouts were left at the age of 11 in an unfamiliar forest with only a hunting knife.

"Come on, we need to hurry. My car is two blocks away. And be quiet, the neighbors don't need to hear anything."

"Two blocks!?" Heero shot an icy glare at the loud yell, though Duo only grinned sheepishly and mocked him with a finger pressed to his lips.

The walk took its toll on the injured Duo, who was out of breath after the first block. Heero could see fatigue wearing at Trowa's gait, but he instead offered to carry Duo on his back, only to find himself moving quickly to clamp a hand over his mouth as it opened wide for a large breath, preparing to speak.

By the time they made it to the car, both Heero and Trowa were visibly tired by the quick, intense pace of the long walk. He moved quickly to open all of the doors, moving towards the luggage as he opened the trunk.

"Don't touch anything. I don't know where they'll look when they find you guys aren't there, so we need to be careful about spreading evidence around." Quatre and Trowa nodded as they moved to the back seat, Duo settling into the front. After Duo shut the trunk and had methodically shut all of the doors, he finally got into the driver's seat, allowing himself to breathe a long-held breath as they finally made their way towards the rendezvous with Quatre's contact

---

Trowa watched the city lights sparkle in the distance as they flew down a road towards whatever place in the middle of the nowhere Quatre had picked to meet Rashid. The car was silent – he thought he could here Quatre breathing lightly and rhythmically, the way he always did when he slept. Duo was fidgeting in the front, hands placed firmly on his thighs to prevent from touching anything. He would shift into one position, move into another – head against the window, then the headrest, arms up propped up against the door, then clenched tight against his side. He'd slouch, then sit up straight, fidgeting endlessly to find a comfortable position – but his hands never moved.

And next to him, silent as the night, as Yuy – speechless, emotionless as he flew around corners in the dark of the night without headlights. Duo had called him on it at the beginning of the ride, to which he'd answered, "Headlights only draw attention to yourself."

He handled the roads expertly, though. He wondered about him – the sudden turn in his loyalties. Trowa didn't trust it. No – he trusted it, just not completely. Quatre had told him he felt that Heero wasn't to blame for the way he'd been fooled, and that he felt Heero was a decent man deep down who regretted his decisions.

And he trusted Quatre – because Quatre's feelings had yet to let him down.

But he still had to be suspicious – suspicion was what had kept him alive through countless missions.

More surprised than Heero's sudden change, however, was Duo's reaction. He'd talked to him earlier, after Heero had left.

"_So?"_

"_So what?"_

"_What did he ask you?" Duo only shrugged._

"_Stuff about my past." Trowa was quiet, knowing Duo's wounds were easily re-opened._

"_Are you alright?" He didn't respond at first, but finally nodded._

"_God, Tro'. I don't know. He's... interesting, confusing. I just don't know. One minute he's asking me stuff, then suddenly he's kissing me, then the next thing I know he's gone. He... makes me feel things, ya know? Stuff I haven't felt in years. Not since Solo..." Trowa remained quiet as Duo's drifted in thought. _

"_No one's made me feel like this since him. I've missed him so much, Tro'... I've missed him so much. I'll think about him, for no reason at all. Then I have to go find someone – at least when I'm bombed I think it's Solo, ya know?. And I wake up and it only hurts worse when I find out it's not. But Heero wasn't like that, Tro'. It felt like Solo. Even when before I knew who it was, it still felt like him. For those few seconds, I was in his arms, and he was holding me. Then when we were talking, it's like that hole I've felt was full. I can't explain it. I just... I miss him, Tro'. I miss him a lot. And Heero makes me not miss him so much."_

"_Duo –"_

"_I know, Tro'. I know. He's not Solo. I don't expect him to be. It's... that kiss... it's not that it felt like Solo, it's that I felt like I did when it _was _Solo. It's the way he made me feel, not what he felt like, ya know? But he's the cops, Tro'! He's a fuckin' pig! Then he starts talking about doubting what he believes in or some shit, and I believed him! I believed him, Tro'! For no reason at all..." Again, Trowa was silent._

"_Quatre was saying he felt that it was a genuine regret. Duo," he sighed, "I'm certainly not going to say that you should jump into anything. Maybe if you'd met him before all of this started. Maybe in a different world, where you weren't trying to hide from an investigation, where he wasn't the lead detective. Maybe if you didn't have to worry that he'd find out –"_

"_He knows, Tro'. And he let me go. I start yelling at him, asking why he's not arresting me, then he just turns around and kisses me. God, Tro', I just... it's something –"_

"_Solo would have done?" Duo nodded his head in pain._

"_Exactly like he would have done, jerkin' me around like a fuckin' ragdoll."_

"_But he's not, Duo. He's not Solo. I just want you to be sure that if you pursue this, you aren't chasing after Solo – that you remember who it is you're about to get involved with. Special Agent Heero Yuy. Not Solo."_

_Duo nodded, slumping against Trowa's side._

"_He's not Solo. But for the first time... I'm not trying to find him. It's just like – for the first time, I'm not trying to see him. All I know is that when Heero touches me, I feel the same thing I felt when Solo did. Last night... it felt the same. All the other guys, it was nothing – and I knew it. But for the first time, I felt stuff that I haven't felt in years. And I'm not expecting him to be Solo. I want him to be Heero Yuy. Blue-eyed hunk of muscled god, Heero Yuy."_

"_Then what's the problem?" Duo looked at him, eyes now hard as steel._

"_I'm the problem, Trowa. I am. Shinigami is the problem, causing death wherever I go is the problem. Being an agent of death who'd be killing the men he trained with, the men he swore to protect in the thick of battle – that's the problem. I'm the problem..." Duo slumped against him, and he snaked an arm around his shoulders._

"_Duo –"_

"_I'm the fuckin' problem, Tro'. Me and all of my fucked-up luck." He began to sob slightly, and Trowa could see it in his eyes – all of the ghosts of his past, swirling around his mind, tearing with ghastly claws into his wounded, broken soul. He held him close, knowing there was nothing he could say. All he could do was hold him close and let him know he wasn't alone._

---

Heero turned off the paved road to a small scenic stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. As he pulled up, he flashed on the lights – illuminating the area around the black limo. And leaning against it, arms crossed, was a large, muscular man, look of focus harsh across his features. Even at the shock of the lights in the darkness, he didn't flinch. He merely opened his eyes, meeting Heero's suspicious gaze directly.

Heero walked out, moving to open all of the doors. He didn't rush, taking the time he felt he now had. Once all of his passengers had clamored out, he moved towards the trunk, lifting the bags out and carrying them towards the limo. The large man had instantly moved when he was Quatre, at his side within seconds, referring to him as "Master Quatre". He felt a slight ease in his nerves seeing the man in action, taking the time to meticulously detail his abilities. He knew well enough that large muscles didn't imply strength, he himself being able to take down a man three times his size with strengthened muscles built for power instead of cosmetics. He watched the grace in his movements, studying every ripple of every muscle to gauge their functional use. He finally deemed him satisfactory.

If he had to leave Duo's safety to another man, he was glad it was a behemoth of his own nature, who, from what he gathered in that first moment of silent exchange, was a dedicated bodyguard who protected his wards with an unbreakable resolve.

The man must have noticed him, moving forward to stand before him. Their eyes met again, this time locking in an iron grapple. A large, muscled hand extended before him, and Heero instantly felt a primal rush of testosterone surge through him. He grasped it, meeting the challenge with his own powerful grip. They stood that way, tightening their clasped hands in a silent battle for domination. Finally, the man smiled, loosening his grip, a look of respect filling his features.

"My name is Rashid, Master Quatre's personal guard."

"Heero Yuy."

"I'd like to thank you for informing Master Quatre of the situation. You have my gratitude." Heero nodded firmly. "If there's ever anything –"

"The only thing you can do for me is protect Duo with the same devotion I can see you have in your service to Quatre." Rashid nodded, chuckling.

"He's a friend of Master Quatre's. But, as you request, nothing shall happen for as long as my body is alive to stop it." Heero nodded, glancing around the area. He idly listened to Quatre talking to his servants, apparently preparing the hotel room. Wandering around a ways away was Duo. He quickly walked over to him, grabbing his shoulder firmly.

"I'd like to talk to you, Duo. Alone." Duo looked at him, unsure, then suddenly called to Quatre.

"Hey Quat! 'Ro's takin' me to go make out! We'll be back in a bit." Heero instantly felt the heat burning his cheeks as he turned to see a dismissive hand wave him off. He turned to glare at Duo, but found himself completely disarmed by the deceptively innocent smile.

Heero grabbed his arm, pulling him into the small, wooded area. They walked for a ways until they could no longer hear the engines or the idle conversation Trowa and Rashid had begun.

They slowed as they neared a small clearing – a tiny break in the woods, the trees thick walls that rose high above them, the small break in the treetops allowing small glances of moonlight into the area.

Over the course of the walk, the two remained silent – uncertainty painted across his face.

"Duo," he began, stopping slightly as his emotions crashed against the walls of his mind, battling furiously, "we might not see each other for a while. I don't know when, but I doubt it will be soon." Duo's face slowly fell into an emotionless mask, his eyes darkened by the lack of light, leaving Heero flying blind. "I just... look. Before we part ways for so long, I want you to know something. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. And some of them... you made me realize today that some of them were mistakes that went against everything I was taught in my life. Everything I swore to uphold, the most important moral I swore to believe in – I fucked them up. But I'm going to correct them. Maybe I can't change them, but I can make sure I don't keep making those same mistakes from now on. I can make sure I start living by that moral.

"Which is why I want you to know this – I care for you, Duo. I won't be dramatic and say I love you – not yet. Not now. But I want you to wait for me. I want you to wait for a time we can really start something, because I want the chance to fall in love. I want that chance. I want, very much, to fall in love with you. Whenever we can truly be together, I want it more than anything."

"Heero –"

"So Duo, _please. _Please, Duo, don't run away. Stay with Quatre, hidden and safe. Please, don't run off and pull some dumbass stunt that will get you arrested. I know you're scared of being holed up and not being able to run, but please, for me, stay hidden where Quatre and Rashid can keep you safe."

"Heero, I –" His grip tightened like a vice, curling his fingers into the thin arms as he shook the thin frame lightly, firmly.

"Please, Duo! Promise me!" Unsure eyes dropped to the ground, the pained face silent in thought, until he nodded weakly. His grip instantly loosened and he pulled him hard against his chest, relief running through him as his every tightened nerve released. He leaned close, blowing warm breath over the shell of an ear as he whispered.

"Say it."

"Heero, I already –"

"Please, Duo – just... just say it. Please." He knew his voice was needy, begging, exposing his every insecurity. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. He needed to hear those two words that would put his mind at ease.

"I promise." It was like an orgasm tearing through his body as he shook with a light chuckle of joy. His embrace tightened, and shaky hands ran up the muscles of his band, clenching his shirt tightly as they found purchase. They stood there, lost in each other, as Duo leaned his head against the base of Heero's neck, nuzzling into it as his grip on the shirt tightened.

Finally, Heero loosened, and they pulled away – Duo with a slight sigh at the loss, sending a swell of pride through Heero's chest at the response. They stayed silent, until finally Duo eased out of the moment.

"So what will you do?" Heero looked at him, unsure of the question.

"About what?" Duo only shrugged.

"You said the military was in charge now. What does that mean for you?" Heero stared off into the darkness in silence, thinking. He looked into Duo's eyes, lit by the moonlight as he stood fidgeting before him, and found himself disgusted at the thought of returning to Relena's den, where he'd be subjected to flirtatious propositions that would only remind of him of his loss. He decided to call in a favor – her brother would agree to taking an active role in her protection, and Zechs owed him a favor. He finally shrugged.

"I don't know. I have vacation days I could take, though it might look suspicious. I suppose I'll volunteer to oversee the protection of a few government officials." Seeing the worried look flash in the eyes before him, he quickly added, "but I won't be doing any protection details, I'll be working more as a consultant. Don't worry about me." Duo nodded, though stayed silent. Finally, Heero suggested they return, and they walked back towards the limo. Heero gripped Duo's hand, intertwining their fingers as they walked in the moonlight, bringing the smile he loved back to Duo's face. Just before they reached the edge of the woods, Heero tugged on Duo's hand for him to stop. He turned around, and Heero quickly snaked a hand up behind his head, crashing their lips together in a fiery kiss. Tongues battled, before finally Duo submitted, and Heero plundered the presented mouth, exploring it as thoroughly as he could manage before they had to part for air.

He wrapped his arms around the thin waist of the hot, panting man, pulling him against his own taunted cock, swollen from the heat of the kiss, and ground hard against the other man's hardened bulge. Duo panted with a sharp, soundless moan as he slumped into Heero's hold, his arms coming up to loosely wrap around his neck and come to rest on his shoulders. Heero tightened his embrace, reaching down to whisper into Duo's ear.

"Stay safe."

Duo nodded weakly. They stood that way, lost in each other's hold, as they calmed from the passionate moment. As they cooled from the heat, Heero gently ran his hand up and down Duo's back, then gently fondled the end of the braid. Before he pulled away, he grabbed the rope of hair and brought it up to the neck of the shirt, before gently tucking it into the hole of the shirt. He pulled away, and paused to look at Duo's face, his eyes looking far off in the distance as a sad smile graced his lips. Before Heero could ask what was wrong, Duo made a quiet comment.

"You know, Heero – only one other man was ever allowed to touch my braid." Heero's emotions swelled at the comment, a mix of pride, confusion, and envy. Before he could ask who the other was, Duo crashed against his head with a thud, head buried in his muscled torso, quietly begging him, almost on the verge of tears –

"Please, Heero. Please. Promise you'll come and find. Promise me you won't die." As the hot warmth of tears soaked through his shirt, he quickly embraced him and brought a gentle hand up to stroke his back, his other hand grabbing the braid and playing with the end, instantly testing his newly found permission as he squeezed the end in his palm, running his thumb over the the end, fascinated by the way it tickled his sensitive finger. Duo instantly melted in his grip, and the tears turned to a calm, quiet breathing.

"I promise."

---

Duo threw the door open, walking in quickly and crashing onto the couch, only half-interested in gazing at the grandeur of the room, though not before flipping the television on with plans to numb his mind before a night of sleep. Quatre was close behind, tired from the ride back into town, still half-asleep from his failed attempt before he was moved from his bed.

Trowa followed last, lugging the suitcases in.

He didn't even make it to the bedroom before he noticed Duo, face paled as he stared at the television, his mouth open slightly. Trowa chuckled.

"Your brain's turned to mush already? I thought you'd at least make it two hours."

When Duo didn't respond, Trowa became worried, wondering if he'd torn open his stitches somewhere along the hike up to their room.

"Duo?"

He glanced at the television to see the screen zoomed in on the familiar door of his home – soldiers, guns raised ready to shoot away anything that moved, were swarming the building. The camera panned to the street, where he saw neighbor after neighbor sprawled on the ground, cuffs behind their backs.

"Trowa..."

He swore to thank Yuy next time he saw him.

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_


	9. Chapter 9

I know it's been a while. You'll be happy to know that I _survived_ this semester, and of the two grades I know of I have a B and a C (the B being in the class of _death_ -- Survey of American Literature with a professor who I swear taught it like a Masters class. I didn't mind, I'm glad he did. But other students weren't so happy about his teaching method. I see it as getting a better education, but I guess I'm weird like that. I, for one, was doing a happy little dance for getting a B. I was expecting much lower. And my C was in German, which for missing three weeks of class isn't half bad!

Anyways, I feel like this chapter is a little rough around the edges. You guys have been great about reviewing. I know I've said it before, but I mean it. I mean it enough to say it again! You guys are great, and your comments on the chapter are appreciated!

Oh, and:

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

* * *

**A Rebel and Anomaly  
**_Taka Momos_

"_Heero?" The voice was weak – breaking, croaking._

_He held the man close to him, holding his braid in his hand, idly rubbing his thumb along the rope of hair. Another hard cough shook them both, and he could feel the warm blood slipping between quivering lips onto his shoulder, soaking through his shirt. The body against him wracked with violent shivers, whimpers crying weakly into his neck. _

_Heero._

_It was barely audible now, more a whimpered gasp than anything else. Fingers dug weakly into his shoulders as he held the body as tight as he could – but it didn't matter. He could feel the sand slipping through his fingers as the face below paled._

_Heero._

_It was a mantra now – breathless, soundless. His name was just being mouthed now, over and over again. Raspy choking replaced coughing as the body grew too weak to clear the lungs of the blood. Hot, wet tears slid down as he cheeks as he held him close, trying to keep him as close as he could before he finally slipped away._

_Heero._

_Gunshots and explosions sounded in the distance. A sob shook the feeble body._

"_Heero, I'm cold." He whined, and the arms shook as they tried to wrap tighter around his neck._

"_I love you, Duo."_

_Shouting in the distance, as the gunfire came closer, the explosions louder now._

_A gentle smile crossed his face._

"_Love you too, 'ro." Once vibrant eyes blinked, before fading, and a cold fog fell over them as they turned glassy._

_No..._

_Heero held him tighter still, pressing the face against his own._

_No._

_He squeezed the braid, trying to choke back his own sobs._

_No._

_No._

"No!" He snapped awake, sitting up quickly. A cold sweat drenched his sheets – his body wet and clammy. Heero ran a shaking hand over his face, before massaging his temples. A siren sounded in the distance. He rolled over and tried to go to sleep, but what little he could get was uneasy – filled with images from one of the worst nightmares he'd had since he was a child.

---

Heero idly swished the scotch around in the glass, watching as the golden liquid and ice spun even after he stilled his hand. It had been a week since Duo had gone into hiding. A very long, boring week; a week spent in a job he'd once found fascinating, but now left him empty.

He'd offered to take over as head of security for a number of high-ranking government officials, allowing a large portion of the security consultants to be transferred to aid in the military's investigation. Chang returned to his job as well, but it certainly seemed like a different position entirely. Upon Treize's declaration of marshal law, the police forces found themselves sitting on their hands most days – the military forces were replacing the concept of "law enforcement" with a special brand of authoritarian rule. Foot patrols and raids on apartment complexes removed the need for a police force. Although, some citizens complained the police force should be protecting them from the military – what was once widespread police brutality was now a pipedream for the people compared to the illegal ransacking, brutality, and other,worse, atrocities that the soldiers were rumored to be committing.

"Rumored": because to accuse the military of wrongdoing while under their interpretation of marshal law was tantamount to suicide.

Treize had been quick to capitalize on the situation. In less than an hour, suspected "hotbeds of illegal activity" were raided and closed – brothels, illegal casinos, and, most notably, underground bars. In the entire week, Heero hadn't told anyone about what he'd discovered – and found himself relieved when he learned the Howard's was one of the bars closed down. In their show of strength, they'd swept under the rug the only connection to Duo.

Duo...

Heero thought of him often – wonder if he was alright, if he'd kept his promise. He'd spent his time plotting various ways to get in touch with him; he'd spent hours sitting in his office watching the news to see how the investigation was going. The media drone on mostly about the "subversive rebel scum attempting to dismantle the beautiful government", the over now and then there would be a nugget of worthwhile information.

"Hey."

Heero looked up to see a frazzled Chang sitting down across the table from him. It was halfway through the week when he and Chang both realized that they were intentionally being kept out of the loop in the investigation – though neither could figure out why. Moreso than that, a wall was being built around them – some of their most trusted contacts suddenly wouldn't answer their calls, things would become hush-hush whenever they got within earshot of people involved in the investigation, privileges they once had suddenly seemed to have disappeared. Slowly, like a mouse being crushed between the powerful coils of a snake, their positions were diminishing – Heero could tell that his career was in its last breaths, a victim of the shifting power. Treize was rising, and both Heero and Chang would be ushered out while he "cleaned house".

"Hey." Heero muttered, staring back down into his glass.

The two sat in silence was Chang's drink was ordered and brought. Heero worried some about what their isolation meant – though not too much. At first he'd worried that maybe Treize knew something had happened between he and Duo, but Chang was quick to put his mind at ease, offering the theory that Treize was preparing to use their "failures" to better heighten his profit's return. Chang's isolation offered evidence to that. Treize would have had no reason to punish Chang as well. It was most likely a political purge. They were probably just victims of a careful plan to overhaul the government, with every spot reasonably available to be use for Treize's minions. Or maybe really _was_ as simple as Chang claimed – maybe he really was just building a wall around them so that they couldn't interfere.

"So?"

"I've been doing paperwork for the past eighteen hours. _Paperwork_. Worthless, meaningless paperwork. What about you?" Heero nodded in agreement.

"Almost the same. Politicians are surprisingly easy to care for during marshal law. Two soldiers designated to protect them at any given time, there's not much for me to do other than sit back and watch."

They slipped into idle conversation, and it was late afternoon before they parted ways. Heero slipped into his usual routine, driving his car back to the HQ building, parking in his spot, taking the elevator to his floor, walking into his office, turning on the news, preparing to spend the rest of the day staring out the window as the sun fell out of the sky and the city turned into the dark, depressing warzone –

the note on his desk, however, was not part of the routine. He picked it up, examining it carefully. It was a request – by the security of a foreign diplomat to act as a liaison while the official was involved in talks about the ongoing investigation. Heero didn't bother to fight the smile that spread across his lips, or the wry chuckle that rumbled in his throat.

Winner's fingerprints were all over this half-baked idea.

---

Trowa stood, watching Quatre get ready for the meeting – the first meeting he'd been to in a long time. It was only by "special request" that he was persuaded to make an appearance, but Trowa knew why he was going. With all of the ripples in the political world from the crackdown, he was sure that the government was going to try and make a move on having Quatre's country. Autonomy would go out the window when they brought up implications of involvement by the "rebels" his nation seemed to harbor.

"Trowa, can you help me with this?" He watched Quatre fight to button the sleeve with only one hand for a moment, then stood without a word to help. He made quick work of the sleeve, before quickly moving to the tie still draped over his neck. Quatre smiled, letting his lover help him dress.

Trowa finished the tie quickly as well. Long ago – in the dark time that was his childhood, he'd spent time under the tutelage of the assistant to a high-ranking official, of the old government. His father had recently died in a circus accident, and apparently the two had known each other while soldiers during one of the wars long ago – long before the world's nations were unified. It's why he was so quick to spot the players in the current government – he'd been on the inside during the transition. He'd been a _part of_ the transition – he'd served time in the military. His mentor considered it healthy for a young boy to know the meaning of honor and loyalty – and so he enlisted him.

It hurt him – that he was a child soldier.

His time in the military was hell on earth – the atrocities he committed against the rebellion still haunted him in the darkness of the night. Quatre helped him, though. Quatre helped him heal. But the wound would never fully heal until he had absolution_._

Which led him to the rebellion.

His absolution would come through the downfall of the current government – OZ. OZ was the old government's answer to the old military's seeming ineffectiveness. The leader of the old military was Trowa's mentor – Dekim Barton. Once a highly respect soldier, he became friends with a political revolutionary who preached peace and tolerance in the world. However, the politicians of the time sought to silence him, knowing that his teachings would lessen their own power in the world. Through political maneuvering and clever strategy, the power of OZ grew. Finally, when the military was a weak and tired shell of itself, the government adopted OZ as the official military, and declared the old military to be rebels against the cause of world peace. In a shock-and-awe attack, OZ launched a massive offensive against the military – and in the chaos, hired an assassin who killed the friend and idol of Dekim Barton.

Trowa remembered watching the man slowly lose his mind in grief. He assembled the remnants of the military, and launched a counter-offensive of proportions unplanned by OZ strategists. The resulting war was the "revolution". The true nature of the two sides is mangled by history – the "new" government claimed they had overthrown an ineffectual government, but it was the same government all along, only now with the power to oppress.

In the end, as Dekim Barton fell and the forces of the old government were finally killed off, Trowa, blissfully removed when he ran from the war to find refuge in the circus where he was raised, discovered that it was an OZ assassin who had killed Dekim Barton's mentor. And, to the surprise of the government that put OZ in power at the beginning of it all, OZ leaders forced their way up into the highest echelons of the government's ranks. It was, although realized all too late, a calculated power grab made by the leader of OZ. He had planned it, gotten government officials to unknowingly back it, and carried it out – and Dekim Barton was just a pawn in the game, played like a tool.

But Trowa didn't care. He hated them all. He hated Dekim Barton for stealing his childhood, for brainwashing him into a killing machine. And he hated OZ for stealing the world's greatest voice of peace – and for plunging the innocent civilians of the world into a hell in the run-down ghettos. He hated them all, and joined the rebellion to finally undo the evil that cast its power in a dark cloud above all the lands of the world.

"Trowa?" Trowa, realizing he'd become lost in thought, gave a reassuring smile to his lover, with worry clear in his eyes at his unexplained silence. He moved forward slightly, gently kissing the blond's lips, before finally backing away.

"You look beautiful." Quatre smiled, leaning forward to rest his head against Trowa's chest.

As they made their way out the door, Rashid met them. As Trowa followed Quatre out, Rashid stopped him, and gave him a stern look.

"He's never more than a foot away from you at any time – understand?" Trowa nodded, knowing that Rashid didn't mean to offend him. He just worried about the blond, as much as Trowa did. "And be conscious of everyone around you! Don't be afraid to make demands, either. Use your knowledge of how things work to keep the playing field level. Those government pigs are just waiting for their chance." Trowa nodded again, meeting Rashid's gaze.

"I know, I don't need to tell you these things. You'll take care of Master Quatre. But it's my duty." Trowa gave a final nod, and in passing flashed a reassuring look as he made his way out the door, towards Quatre, who was waiting at the elevator.

---

The sun had already set by the time he arrived at the hotel. Other than an absence of the usual rich couples that seemed to decorate the lobby, the hotel seemed largely unaffected by the marshal law. When he stopped to ask the desk clerk how to get to Winner's room, a quick flash of his badge got him what he wanted without any trouble. The walk to the elevator was uneventful. Heero was starting to wonder where everyone was – it seemed as if any guests in the hotel were either in hiding or had checked out.

After a short elevator ride and a navigation of the hallways, Heero finally found the penthouse. He had to admit – he was impressed. The door, at the end of a hallway, was decorated with small palm trees in white, decorated pots. The door itself was a dark, beautiful wood, decorated with gold. He walked up and knocked, and after a few seconds of silence, the large man he'd met before – Rashid, if he remembered right – answered the door. He had a tired look across his face. Rashid moved, a wordless invitation in the room. Heero accepted with a wordless grunt of affirmation. A quick glance around the room showed him that, much to his surprise, the two were alone. Neither Quatre nor Trowa were anywhere to be seen.

He furrowed his brows, turning to Rashid for an explanation.

"Master Quatre and Mr. Barton have gone to attend a meeting." Heero nodded, quiet for a moment.

"So do you really need my help, or was it just a plan of his?"

"Both. I objected at first, but he reminded me that you have a very useful knowledge of government tactics and could better help me protect him by telling me what to watch out for." Heero nodded, his stomach knotting as he tried to ease into the topic he was most interested in.

"And Duo?" Rashid took a deep breath, almost a sigh, before he answered.

"He's in the other room, asleep last I checked. We can talk later about Master Quatre, you should probably go see Mr. Maxwell right now." Heero looked at him in confusion, but Rashid kept his gaze fixed on some random point in the opposite wall. Heero grunted a thanks, and Rashid nodded – wordless conversation passing between the two. Heero headed towards the room Rashid had motioned to.

His stomach twisted when he opened the door. On the humble bed in the surprisingly small room was Duo – sickly pale, with dark rings around his eyes, breathing heavily in an uncomfortable sleep. Heero was quickly at his side, gently rubbing his thumb along Duo's cheek.

"That's why Master Quatre had you come." Heero looked back at Rashid, who stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

"What's wrong with him." He turned back to Duo, gently running his fingers through the hair, pulled into a loose braid that snaked out from behind his head and fell over the side of the bed. .

"The government crackdown on illegal activity has caused a major disruption in the pharmaceutical industry. We haven't been able to get a refill on his painkillers from the surgery. The doctor says the pain is bad, but the main problem are the withdrawals from stopping such a heavy dose so fast. The prescription was for a lower dose to taper him off. The only thing Master Quatre has managed to get for him is a prescription of sedatives. But, as you can see..." Heero nuzzled into the crown of Duo's head. Behind him, Rashid closed the door, plunging the room into darkness – the only light coming from a door that led to a small bathroom, with a fluorescent light that was turned on.

Heero stayed kneeling by the bed, when suddenly Duo's eyes shot open, whimpers of pain whining from his throat. Blindly reaching out, he grabbed Heero's shirt and pulled himself halfway out of the bed – retching violently. Heero rushed into the bathroom, grabbing a small trashcan, hurrying back to get it into Duo's reach. Seeing that they were mostly dry heaves, he climbed over and into the bed – laying next to him, holding him from behind. As the retching passed, Duo weakly pushed himself back into the bed. Heero snaked a hand under his waist, running it up his back. He pulled the shaking body up against him – close enough for Duo to lay his head on Heero's chest.

Heero leaned down, whispering in his ear, "I missed you." Duo looked up, into his eyes, before saying back to him in a tired voice, "I miss you too, 'ro." Heero tightened his hold, stroking the back as it continued shaking. He wasn't sure exactly when he fell asleep, but he knew that it was some time after Duo curled up closer against him – sometime after he'd kissed the sweaty forehead of his man he'd come to love.

---

Trowa had been carrying Quatre on his back all the way from the elevator. They were both exhausted – it had been a meeting that seemed like it would never end. Quatre had spent the entire day all but yelling at the ridiculous accusations made against his nation, and some about himself personally – accusations about his nation supporting the terrorist faction plaguing the government. Trowa had known it would happen. He just hadn't expected them to have the endurance to drag it on for hour after hour.

Quatre was breathing slowly as Trowa finally dragged himself through the door. Throwing the door shut behind him, he slowly made his way over to the couch, leaning down to let Quatre climb off. The second he was off of Trowa's back, he curled up and began to fall asleep. Trowa began removing some of his clothes, preparing to lay down next to the blond. He was too tired to get them both into the bedroom, and after such a long day all he wanted to do was curl up with a warm Quatre and sleep.

The door to Duo's room opened – Trowa looked up to see Heero staring one last time into the room, before turning, both staring at each other quietly. Trowa could tell Heero had been asleep. He watched as Heero slowly made his way into the room, before sinking down into a chair across from him.

The two remained silent for a moment, before finally Heero asked, "Will he be alright?"

Trowa knew he meant Duo. Quatre stirred slightly. Trowa stayed quiet, thinking. Finally, he nodded.

"It'll be rough for him. But yeah... he'll be fine. He's survived worse than this." Heero nodded slowly, staring down into the carpet quietly. He added, "Quatre thought you'd want to see him. He figured that with you around some, it might not be as rough on him."

Heero remained silent. Minutes passed, before he finally spoke again.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You can find a place for him to stay for a while." Only half-awake, Quatre sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"The military will probably watching this penthouse with a dangerous scrutiny, looking for any possible connection to subversive activity. Obviously, such a place isn't the best to keep him in. I expect the wiretaps to be installed before tonight is over, and the bugs to be in place when the cleaning staff comes. He needs to be out before then. They probably expected the meeting to produce more 'evidence' than it did, which is why surveillance probably isn't already instilled." Trowa watched the worried look flash across Heero's face.

"Probably?" Quatre nodded.

"They may very well have this room bugged already. There's not much we can do about it, though. If that's the case, we're already caught. Things would have been said since they bugged it." Quatre yawned. "All we can do now is get him somewhere he can rest."

"Howard might can take him." Trowa offered, but Heero shook his head.

"It would be too risky. The government has made it difficult for anyone to move around, particularly in the underground. Getting him there would be as risky as letting him stay." They were quiet again, thinking hard.

"What about your apartment?" Trowa suggested, but Heero only shook his head again.

"We'll be noticed moving him. It's illogical trying to get him out of the building at all." Heero suddenly began staring. Finally, after a moment, he said:

"I'll get a room. Here, in the hotel."

"Won't that be suspicious?" Quatre asked, but Heero didn't answer. He only shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe. But it's the best of all the bad choices we have available to us." When no one objected, he stood, and made his way towards the door.

"I'll go get a room then."

As he opened the door, Trowa called for him.

"Heero!" Heero turned his head. Trowa was quiet for a moment, before finally saying, "Thank you."

Heero nodded his head, and left for the front desk to make his reservation.


End file.
